Super Short Dandy Drabbles
by Bethofbells
Summary: Sometimes I get the inclination (possibly inspired by a bottle of wine) to ask for prompts for very short Dandy drabbles. I'll post them here.
1. Ah ha

"_I Kissed a Girl_?"

"What? No!"

"_Friday_?"

"That one song by that internet girl? Absolutely not. Ooh, look, there's _Born in the USA."_

"Ugh, gross. I'm not a hundred and five."

Betsy squeezed in between them, looking at the song selection on the tiny screen in front of them. "Since I made you two come up here together, I guess I should pick your song. You're taking forever." She scrolled through them. "Oh, this one is nice." She selected it without consulting then and hopped back down to her seat.

At the first couple notes Danny groaned and Mindy hopped up and down excitedly, grabbing the mic so she could start off the duet. "Danny, my mom and dad always do this one, wipe that frown off your face right now." She turned to the crowded bar and belted out the first line. "_Baby when I met there was peace unkown"_

Danny grabbed her arm, whispering loudly. "You're singing the man's part."

She ignored him, shoving her elbow into his side, continuing. "_I set out to get you with a fine tooth coooomb. I was soft inside. There was something going on." _She turned toward Danny, dramatically singing the next lines to him as he stared at the floor in mortification. God, he hadn't had enough beer for this. "_You do something to me that I can't explain. Hold me closer and I feel no pain. Every beat of my heart." _She nodded at him, expectantly, her eyebrows raised. He knew he was supposed to come in at this point.

He sighed hugely, and joined her at the mic. "_We got something going on."_

She laughed on the last couple words, but smiled up at him exuberantly, and suddenly this wasn't the most embarrassing thing he'd ever done, suddenly she was the only person in the room. She greedily took the mic back, totally enjoying being the center of attention.

They sang the rest of the song together, Mindy only needing to poke at Danny a few times to get him to really belt out a couple of the lines. By the end, he felt a smile being coaxed out of him, one that only Mindy had ever been able to produce. He thought he could even discern a flush, not from the heat of the bar, when they got to the middle, singing, "_Making love with each other, ah ha." _

At some point, they had turned away from the other people around them, and were solely singing to each other, lost in some sort of alternate universe. They reached the end of the song. _"And we rely on each other, ah ha. From one lover to another, ah ha._"

Suddenly the music cut off, and Danny was left, sweaty and panting staring down at Mindy's own shiny happy face. The smile there causing his stomach to flip. Still caught up in the moment, he reached forward and grabbed her face, still staring a moment before he crushed his lips down on hers, not worrying about the fact that they'd never discussed anything like this before.

Perhaps it was the slight beer buzz he still had, or maybe it was the camaraderie he felt were her in this moment, but he just wanted to pull her to him, and never let go. He'd deal with the consequences later. When he felt her slide her arms up around him, her hands making their way to his nape, her fingers curling into his hair, crushing his mouth closer to hers, he realized he'd probably made the best decision of his life.


	2. Catholic Wedding

"The Met?"

"Mindy."

"Central Park?"

"Mindy. Stop it."

"The Hamptons, on the beach? Gwen and Carl would totally let us do it at their vacay house."

"Are you even listening to me?"

She tosses her hair over her shoulder and continues to scroll through her phone, naming off the lists of places she'd made over the years. She'd never really wanted to get married in a church. It was so expected, so un-Mindy-like. "The empire state building on New Year's eve?"

"Can you be serious right now?" Danny needed her to listen to him about this. Sure, he'd acquiesced when she'd said she wanted to live together before they got married, even though his mother had nearly had an aneurism when he'd told her, but this was different. He was catholic. He had Father Hannigan over once a month for dinner. He wanted to do this right. He didn't want there to be any sort of cloud hanging over their life together. He decided to take another tack. "I guess you're right. You're not really the type who could pull off a traditional Catholic wedding. You know, big white dress, large wedding party, a hundred or so guests, all staring at you as you enter the church and walk down the aisle. I get it, you want some small thing, on a beach, with the wind blowing sand up your skirt."

She eyed him suspiciously.

"Or, I mean. We could go to the Empire State building on New Year's Eve, and stand up there in the freezing cold while a bunch of strangers stare at us, your pea coat totally covering up your Vera Wong dress."

"Vera Wang."

"Or, maybe you really do want to go to Central Park. Surely a pigeon won't shit on your head. That won't happen at all. It's not like there's a lot of pigeons in New York."

Mindy put her phone down. "This is important to you?"

He nodded, feeling slight trepidation. "I guess I don't really care where we get married, but I do need to know one thing.

He waited. 

"This church of yours, does it have stained glass?"

He nodded.

"The kind where when the sun streams through it, it casts these stunning jewl-toned patterns on the crisp white dresses of brides getting married? Especially those brides that look totally stunning both in white and all jewel tones?"

He nodded again.

"And Father Hannigan, he doesn't care that I'm not Cathlolic?"

"Not particularly."

"Not particularly?"

"Well, I mean, he's priest, Min. He's kind of paid to care, but it won't stop him from marrying us with a smile." He reached for her, pulling her close. "Plus, he adores you anyway, tells me every time he has dinner with us, that it's his life's mission to convert you, even though he knows it's futile. He loves you that much."

She smiled at Danny. "And your mother, do you think she'll forgive us for living together if we get married in a Catholic church?" 

Danny grinned at her. "Well, Ma's got ideas about a lot of things. I think she's already forgiven us, seeing as how she's already picking out baby clothes."

Mindy smiled, laying her palm on the side of his face. "Danny, I've never really cared about where I got married. As long as it's to you, it really doesn't matter to me. And besides, a Catholic wedding sounds perfect. She pressed a kiss to his lips. "Did you know I love you?"

"Yes, but I love hearing you say it."

"I love you, Daniel, I love you so so much."

He laughed and scooped her up, carrying her through the door to his bedroom. She smiled up at him as he crossed the threshold. "A preview?"

He laughed. "Maybe we could get to working on that grandchild for my ma. Get a real reason to push the date of the wedding up?" His eyes were twinkling.

She swatted at him. "You're mother would never forgive us." She was grinning widely. "But, there's no harm in practicing." She squealed as he tossed her into the bed and dove in after. Practicing was amazing.


	3. It's Not Easy Being Green

Hell yeah she looked like a woman. She spun in front of the mirror, still naked, having just emerged from the shower. Curves in all the right places. Sure, sometimes she was insecure, who wasn't, but it was never very hard pull herself back up and appreciate that she was a beautiful, no hot, woman.

She smiled. It didn't hurt that Danny had noticed. Definitely didn't hurt, especially since she'd been noticing him a lot lately too. He'd say something to grab her attention, and for the first second after looking up from her file, she would be surprised by just how attractive she found him. It would punch her in the stomach. That attraction was weird to her, because for a very long time she'd never viewed Danny that way.

He'd always given off this irritating air of superiority, which she'd found extremely off putting. It was only now that she realized she found it so distasteful because she'd always sort of agreed with it. There was this nasty little voice in the back of her head sometimes, mind you, not a lot, but sometimes that would pipe up when she was dealing with an attraction to someone she felt was out of her league.

Out of her league. God, she cringed at the very phrasing. That stupid niggling thought sometimes overtook her, and it pissed her off, because come on, she was a young hot doctor. Successful too. No one was out of her league. When she'd first met Danny it had popped into her head, and he'd done nothing to erase it by telling her she needed to lose weight and insisting that he was smarter than her.

But now something was different. Danny complimented her. Not only did he compliment her, but he did it on a regular basis, telling her she was smart, and that she was a good person. And now there was this most recent thing. He basically told her he liked the way she looked, like, really liked. He'd seen her naked twice. Three times if you counted his one attempt to prove to her that they had no personal relationship. So it wasn't' just a friendly, "hey, you look nice." There were definite undertones.

She smiled, fully aware of the fact that she was hot no matter what Danny said, but still feeling a little vindicated that he'd finally admitted it to himself.

She skipped out into her room to get ready for the day, still thinking about the earnest look on Danny's face when he'd told her what he really thought.

* * *

><p>They were at the office, and yes, it was a little bit awkward, but not like she'd thought. It hadn't taken them very long to slip back into their normal mode of interaction. They were even having lunch together in his office.<p>

"I just don't understand why you would do that. Buying your groceries online seems like such a stupid thing to do. Especially when you live in the middle of the city."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm a busy lady, buddy. I don't have time to walk up and down the aisles looking for my particular brand of cereal. What if they move it to a different place? Then I have to go hunt some sixteen year old box boy down and ask him where it is, then listen while he rolls his eyes and points me in some random direction. Online. It's just, type it in, click it, put your credit card number in. Voila! It's at your house in a couple hours."

"Wait, you don't order all your groceries at once? You order one thing at a time?"

"I order what I want when I want it. As a modern woman I've learned to embrace the luxury of instant gratification."

Danny palmed his face in exasperation. Before he could say anything his phone buzzed on his desk. He picked it up, a small smile on his face and she replied to a text message.

Mindy squinted at him curiously. "Who is that?"

"None of your business. Nosy."

"You know you want to tell me. So just do it." She took a drink of her diet coke. "You know what, never mind. It's probably just a wrong number that you've struck an unlikely friendship with, even though you've never met this person. You feel some weird connection, because he's also a single guy in New York who shares your hatred of deep dish pizza."

Danny snorted. "What the hell are you talking about?" He tucked his phone into his pocket. "And just so you know, deep dish pizza is a misnomer. That's not pizza. Not at all."

She set her coke down on his desk, leaning forward in her chair. She didn't know why, but his little smile when looking at his phone earlier unsettled her. "Who was it Danny? You've piqued my curiosity. I didn't know you had any friends."

He sighed. Fine. He'd give her what she wanted. "Gina."

Mindy waited for Danny to continue, but he just stared at her. "Gina who? Gina what? Who is this person?"

Mindy tried to soften the sharp edge of her words. What was happening? She felt the sudden urge to clench her jaw, but instead took a deep breath. Relax Lahiri, you're being weird.

Danny was uncomfortable, but definitely not disappointed to hear the sharp tone in her voice. "We've been kind of seeing each other lately."

"Lately?" She was surprised when her voice cracked. She cleared her throat. "How lately?" God, that didn't even make sense.

"We've just sort of been casually seeing each other for the past month?"

"Casually? Month?" The volume of her voice was disproportionate to what her reaction should have been.

"What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing. What's wrong with Gina? Why aren't you dating her for real?"

"What? I am."

"No you're not. You're using her for casual sex. That's disgusting Danny. You're not in college anymore."

"Whoah. Relax. Why do you care?"

"I don't. I mean, I do, but not like that. I care on behalf of all women."

"Fine then."

"Fine then what?"

"I'll date her 'for real,' does that make you happy?"

She stared at him, mentally cursing herself. This is not what she wanted at all. "Yes, yes it does. Thank you Danny for taking the necessary steps to be a considered adult male."

She settled back in her seat, a thoughtful expression on her face. Danny pulled his phone out of his pocket and began texting again. "There. I just asked her if she wanted to go have dinner tonight."

Mindy played with the cuff of her sleeve, not looking at him. She felt extremely conflicted. When Danny has said he'd been casually hooking up with some girl called Gina, she'd felt a hot and unrelenting flood of jealousy wash over her, and she'd tried to channel that intense feeling toward something else. Indignation on behalf of all women had seemed like an easy path to take, but it had backfired so completely that she was lost. She felt her throat tighten up and swallowed. "Make sure you change out of that awful outfit before you meet her."

His mouth fell open. "What's wrong with my outfit?"

"Ugh, Danny. Dad jeans, a corduroy jacket with leather elbow patches, and a baggy button up. Not exactly a GQ quality outfit. You look like Steve Jobs right now, and not in a good way." She picked her coke up again and sipped on it, not taking her eyes off him. "Unless Gina's an old lady, in which case, you could probably work with what you got."

"Oh, Mindy, thank god you're here. What would I do without your fashion advice? I've had soooo much trouble getting laid on my own these days." His voice was thick with sarcasm as he rolled his eyes.

She shrugged. "Hey, you think you know what men like, I think I know what women like. Just saying."

Danny looked down at his phone. "Fine. Whatever you say. I'll go home and change first. Lunch is over, my next appointment will be here in ten minutes." He gathered up the mess on his desk and deposited most of it in the trash.

Mindy rose, turning to the door, but Danny's voice stopped her before she slipped through it. "Mindy." She looked back at him, her face graced with an open expression. "Thanks. I actually do think it's time for me to try dating again."

She nodded, unable to say anything, and left his office.

Later, seated at her desk, she stared off into space, trying to decipher this churning in her stomach, this tightness in her chest, this sudden hatred for the name Gina. Oh shit. She was jealous and she had no idea what to do about it.


	4. I'll Soothe You

**A/N: So, I was trying to write an epilogue for another fic, and I just kept writing unrelated established Mindy/Danny drabbles, so I figured I'd just post them here. Here's the first one. I hope you like it. Please feel free to leave comments and reviews. I really appreciate them and I totally reread them all the time :P**

He let out a short laugh when he saw her in the doorway. "What are you wearing?"

She stood there, glaring at him, covered head to toe. "Pajamas. What else would I be wearing?" She gestured to the hugely baggy sweatshirt and the flannel bottoms that completely engulfed her, dragging along the floor.

He rolled his eyes. "And those things?" He pointed to her hands, currently clad in bright pink cotton mittens.

She squirmed uncomfortably, slipping her covered hands up beneath her shirt, brushing them frantically against the skin of her belly. She whined in frustration. "This sucks so bad."

"Mindy. I _told_ you to throw that lotion away. You're clearly allergic to it."

She paused in her attempts to relieve the itching currently distracting her. "We didn't know for sure last time. It could have been that cheap ass detergent you insisted buying in bulk, and that lotion was _expensive _Danny." She crawled into the bed beside him, twisting around to run the soft mittens along her rib cage. "God, Danny, why?" She moaned like a child, on the verge of tears.

He put his book down, removing the reading glasses that had been perched on his nose. Reaching over, he grasped her chin, pulling her face to him. He dropped the gentlest of kisses on her lips before twisting away and hopping out of the bed. "Be right back."

Moments later he returned, glass of water in one hand, the other arm cradling an assortment of bottles from his medicine cabinet. "Did you even take any Benadryl?"

She looked away sheepishly. "I mean, I was _going _to. It totally knocks me out, I had to get ready for bed first."

He knelt beside her on the bed, depositing his armful on the nightstand. Sitting up, she struggled to get off the mittens. He stayed her motions. "Don't bother." He plucked two pills out of one of the bottles, and opened her mouth. Dropping the tablets in, he held the water glass gingerly to her lips.

Wiping her chin with her sleeve, she sopped up the stream of water that had escaped her lips. "What else you got there?" She glanced at the other bottles. He grabbed a sickly pink bottle with a brown cap and waved it in front of her face. "Ugh, no. That stuff is awful. It'll get all over everything. I'm not five. I can handle the itching until this stuff kicks in."

He shook his head. "Come on, Mindy. It's all I have on such short notice. It'll sooth your skin, make the rash go away more quickly. Stop being ridiculous." He leaned forward, nuzzling into the hollow beneath her ear, trailing kisses down the column of her throat. It was kind of exhilarating to have her at his mercy like this, her hands occupied the way they were. "I'll even apply the calamine myself." He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

He pulled away to find her eyeing him dubiously, one eyebrow arched. "This does it for you?" She waved her pink mittens in front of his face. "You sure got some kinks, Castellano."

He frowned, and she found herself trying not to laugh. He tucked her hair behind one ear, looking at her seriously. "_You_ do it for me, Lahiri."

Warmth pooled in her stomach, surprising her with its intensity in the face of her discomfort. But it wasn't just lust he inspired in her. There was also a giddiness in her chest worthy of any romance novel fainting spell, and it never failed to awe her. She smiled, raising her hands over her head. "Lay it on me, doctor."

He laughed, tugging the sweatshirt over her head, pushing her back against the pillows. He sucked in his breath, concern clouding his gaze. "Min, this is awful." He skimmed his fingers lightly over her abdomen, trailing them up her rib cage, roving over her shoulders. He clucked his tongue. "I'm tossing that lotion. No arguments."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, duh."

Danny ignored her sass, slipping his thumb under the loose elastic of the oversized pajama bottoms. Her voice rang out over his head. "Unnecessary. I use a different lotion on my legs."

Danny leaned back, almost regretfully, grabbing the lotion bottle, squeezing a good amount out on his palm. "You have different lotions for different parts of your body?"

"Of course. There's face lotion, hand lotion, foot lotion. God, Danny, there's even hair lotion." She bit her bottom lip. "Not everyone buys the seventy two ounce bulk container that simply says 'lotion' across the front of it."

Affronted, his mouth dropped open. "That was a steal!"

"I'm sure it was." Her eyes sparkled. "It smells like motor oil, Danny, and you don't even use it anyway."

His eyes widened, and she continued. "Yeah, that's right. I caught you. I'd recognize the smell of my very expensive cocoa butter anywhere."

He looked sheepish. "Yeah, that other stuff is pretty awful."

She smiled triumphantly, and he warmed the liquid in his hands for a second before smoothing it across her belly. She sucked in her breath as goose bumps spread across her skin.

"Cold!"

"I'll make it quick."

She laughed, winking at him. "Not your usual style, Dan."

Danny laughed, sweeping the light pink liquid across her dark skin, painting her in broad strokes. He watched her face as he worked along her skin, stopping briefly to get more calamine lotion. Her eyes were getting heavy, undoubtedly the effects of the antihistamines. He smoothed his palms over the globes of her breasts, quickly moving up and over her shoulders. He needed to finish before she fell asleep. He knew from past experience that a passed out Mindy was difficult to maneuver into pj's.

She lazily raised her hand, palming Danny's cheeks, sliding her fingers up into his hair. She smiled. "I look like I took a bath in Pepto-Bismol."

The calamine was still wet on her flesh, and she was fading fast. Danny sent out a couple long gusts of breath, blowing on her skin, fighting the urge to laugh as she squirmed under his ministrations. The medicine began to fade to a faint whitish pink, and Danny carefully touched his fingertips to it. Dry.

Her eyes had drifted shut, fluttering slightly, her eyes darting around beneath the lids. He smiled, dropping kisses on her eyelashes. She raised her arms up, threading them around his neck, and he took the opportunity to raise her off the mattress, holding her up as he slipped her sweater back on.

She kissed the side of his face sloppily, hugging him tightly. "Thank you, Danny."

He laid her back again, brushing the hair out of her face, marveling at how quickly the Benadryl had went to her head. He found it somewhat surprising that she could drink an entire bottle of tequila and still recite the alphabet backwards, but two antihistamines and she was totally done in.

He watched her sleeping for a moment, her face completely relaxed, looking almost childlike with her silly pink mittens drawn up under her chin. Reluctantly, he withdrew from the bed, flicking off the bedside lamps. He made a quick trip to the bathroom to wash his hands, determined to toss the offending lotion in the trash.

His plans were quickly thwarted when he was confronted by half a dozen different expensive looking bottles. Oh well, he'd interrogate her about it tomorrow.

He crawled back into the bed, careful not to jar her, even though she was pretty much dead to the world. Feeling the weight of him slightly dipping the mattress, she instinctively turned toward him, pressing her cheek against his chest, tucking her head underneath his chin. One mitten clad hand draped across his midsection. He sighed contentedly, pulling her closer. "I love you." He'd said it a hundred times, and would say it a hundred more, but each time it was like a revelation to him, a newfound ability within himself, and he would never tire of feeling that way.

This probably wasn't what they meant when they said 'in sickness and in health' but Danny couldn't stop thinking about the diamond ring tucked away in his sock drawer. He'd been so anxious about proposing in the 'right' way that he'd put it off for weeks, but now a sense of urgency pervaded him, and he was certain he'd pull it out the next time she was fully conscious. He didn't want to wait another minute.


	5. Her Father's Daughter

**A/N: Here's another one of those established fics I ended up writing when I tried to do an epilogue for CM. :D Enjoy. As always, reviews and comments are very welcome. I love hearing what you all have to say  
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She put her chubby little hand on her hip in frustration, a gesture many assumed she'd picked up from her mother, but in reality it was a Daniel Castellano original. "But mommy, that's silly."

"It's ok to be silly sometimes, sweetie. It makes life more fun." The somber expression on her daughter's face has always amazed her. On the outside looking in, anyone would be tempted to say that Alana Castellano was Mindy's little clone. Her thick black hair, reaching down to her waist, curling only slightly more than Mindy's. Her dusky skin only a shade or two lighter. But Mindy knew the truth. Alana had a serious streak in her a mile wide and it was definitely courtesy of her father.

Alana frowned. A tiny wrinkle, identical to the one her father so often wore, appeared on her little forehead. "But he's a grownup." A tone of exasperation Mindy had heard so frequently over the years echoed in her tiny voice.

Mindy reached forward, scooping the four year old up, pulling her into her lap. "You don't think grownups like to have fun?"

This inspired a very thoughtful look as Alana evaluated the question posed to her. Ultimately she agreed with her mother, nodding her head slowly. There was still one little thing though. "But Daddy said he didn't want a birthday party, remember? When we were eating breakfast yesterday, he poured me my cereal, and said 'no cake, no presents, no balloons'" Her voice got deep in imitation of her father.

Mindy giggled, nuzzling into the hollow at her daughter's neck, leaving a couple smacking kisses there. Alana gasped helplessly with laughter, ticklish as always. Mindy loved the squirming little ball of energy in her arms, and adored how like her father she was, even if it made for some interesting two against one conversations at home. "That's just 'cause he feels old. Sometimes daddy doesn't know that he needs to have fun. That's what I'm here for."

Alana twisted in her arms, turning to face her mother she wrapped her arms around Mindy's neck. "I tried to tell him how fun my party was last month." She got excited, bouncing up and down. "Ooh, will there be a clown who makes balloon hats?"

Mindy shook her head, feigning total sadness. "No. He said absolutely no balloons, remember? And it is _his_ birthday, but there will be music, and lots of presents, and cake."

Alana's eyes lit up. "Chocolate cake?"

Alright, so there was a lot of Mindy in there too. She laughed, nodding. "It's gonna be a surprise party, sweetie. That's why I told you about it today. Uncle Richie is gonna pick you up from preschool early tomorrow and bring you to the office. I need you to keep it a secret, ok?"

The little girl frowned, poking out her bottom lip a little. "A secret? Daddy's says lying is bad." She looked at Mindy in a very matter of fact way, chiding her mother for asking such a thing. Alana was as hilariously bad at lying as her father, denying the very existence of cookies when asked if she'd been in the cookie jar, hiding her face in her hands when she'd been caught playing with Mindy's makeup.

Mindy gave her a little squeeze. "I would never ask you to lie, sweetie. You can tell daddy, just wait until we're all at the office, ok?"

Alana narrowed her eyes, as if weighing what her mother said. After a few seconds she came round to Mindy's way of thinking.

Mindy knew she should probably just keep the whole thing a surprise for Alana too, but she liked the idea of her little girl scheming alongside, prepping for her daddy's party. "And, you get to help uncle Morgan pick out daddy's present today."

Her eyes grew wide. Uncle Morgan being involved in this endeavor meant one thing, and one thing only. A puppy. She was practically vibrating with excitement. "A puppy? A cute little baby dog!"

"Yes." Mindy snorted, laughing at the memory of explaining to her daughter that puppies didn't stay puppies forever, that they were just babies, like the ones that sometimes came to the mommy and daddy's office. She twisted in her mother's lap, scrambling to her knees so she was nose to nose with her. If it were possible, her eyes were even bigger, a stunned expression on her face.

She placed her dainty little hands on either side of Mindy's face, squeezing her mother's cheeks together. "Are you serious?"

Mindy would have thought the question strange, coming from any other four year old, but seeing as how it was something Danny asked her on a daily basis, it didn't really surprise her all that much. She laughed again, constantly amused by Alana's predilection for dramatics. "Of course, sweetie."

"But Daddy said—"

Mindy shook her head, stopping the endless round of 'daddy saids' that was about to crop up. "Daddy always wanted a puppy, sweetie, but he couldn't have one when he was a kid, so now he thinks it's something he doesn't have time for, he thinks it'll take up too much time, and be too hard, but he's wrong. There's me, and there's you, and there's Uncle Morgan, who said he'll come over and potty train the puppy." Alana crinkled her nose, and Mindy giggled. "And we'll all help out, and show him that he was just overthinking it."

Alana was thoughtful again, this time her eyes sparkled though, picturing all the different types of puppies she would have to choose from. "Do you think daddy will let me pick out a name?"

Mindy hedged, pretending to think about it. She didn't want it to be too obvious that Danny was completely wrapped around Alana's tiny little fingers. "Well, maybe you can make suggestions, ok?"

Alana nodded happily. "But not Grover. Uncle Morgan has five dogs named Grover, and he said he wanted you to name me Grover when I was in your belly, but you didn't." She looked mildly horrified.

Mindy chuckled. "No, I didn't."

Alana shook her head, letting out a long breath. "Thank God!" She flipped her hair over her shoulder, a motion she had seen Mindy do in the mirror countless times.

Mindy was gazing down at her daughter, calculating how many kisses she could get away with before the four year old squirmed away in giggling frustration when the doorbell rang. Alana sprang from her lap, completely ignoring her daddy's 'don't run in the house' rule as she bolted to the door. However, she knew that some rules were not to be broken, and she waited until Mindy was at her side before twisting the knob. "Uncle Morgan!"

Within seconds she was up off the floor, casually tossed over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. She burst into a fit of giggles, her tiny Uggs flailing in the air by his face. "Allie, are you ready to go pick out a puppy?" She squealed, shimmying off his shoulder. He set her down, still clasping her hand. "We gotta get going if we want to get there before all the good ones are taken."

Mindy picked up a tiny pink backpack by the door, waving it at Morgan. "Can't forget the snacks." She slung the little bag over his shoulder.

The two of them walked out the door toward Morgan's car. Mindy called out. ""Don't eat all of her fruit roll ups this time."

Morgan rolled his eyes. "Dr. L, come on, my blood sugar was low, and she doesn't even like the green ones."

Alana glared up at him. "I do _too!_"

Mindy giggled at the caught out expression on Morgan's face. Honestly, the two argued all the time. "Uncle" was perhaps the wrong title for Morgan, considering they poked at each other like siblings, and Alana adored him. She smiled as he buckled her into the booster seat, skipping around to the driver's side door.

He waved at Mindy, cupping one hand beside his mouth, shouting, "I'll keep my eye out for a Great Dane."

Mindy's eyes widened, and she stepped through the door, yelling as the car drove away. "I said a _small_ dog!" She bit the inside of her cheek, picturing Danny's expression when Morgan saddled him with a behemoth of a dog. The image struck her as hilarious, and she doubled over giggling. Poor Danny. He hadn't had a moment's peace in over five years, but it was good for him. Sweet little laugh lines forming around his eyes tugged at her when he laughed, which, as long as Alana was involved, was pretty much every day.

She pulled out her phone, scrolling until she found Morgan's name. She tapped away at the screen.

_a LAP dog, Morgan! Nothing bigger than Bones!_

There, if he didn't listen she could protest that it wasn't her fault, and if all else failed, she'd just have to give Danny his birthday present early. She smirked, satisfied with herself, as she twirled around, skipping back into the house.


	6. Her Mother's Daughter

**A/N: A continuation of "her father's daughter"... Please feel free to leave comments and reviews. I love reading what you have to say, suggestions and general Dandy fangirling are a joy. :D**

He heard it as soon as he walked in the door. The quick cadence of chubby bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor, a tiny little body barreling toward him. And there she was, before he could even hang his jacket up, before he could drop his messenger bag, she was clinging to him, wrapping her short little arms around his knees.

Dropping his things to the floor he bent down to pick her up, swinging her around before settling her on his hip. It seemed like every day this week there had been obligations pulling him away from his family, he hated it. He couldn't believe how much his little cuddly three year old had changed in a year, her fourth birthday marking some growth spurt. Getting taller, her hair falling down to her waist in a wild curtain.

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy." He felt the corner of his mouth pull up at the sound of her voice, chirpy and excited, so like Mindy's when she launched at him with good news. Alana's words even echoing her mother's frequent _Danny-Danny-Danny's_. "Look at the bracelet mommy bought me at the boo-bootique." She waved her wrist in front of his face, proudly displaying brightly colored beads. She preened. "It matches my shirt! See?" She held her hand against her shirt, looking up at him expectantly. "Mommy says 'sessories are a girl's best friend."

He smiled, breath caught in his chest. When people on the street saw Mindy and Alana together, they assumed that Mindy viewed their daughter as her own personal doll, dressing her up in matchy outfits and bright colors, and that Alana was probably indifferent. People were decidedly wrong. Alana spent hours sitting in the floor of her mommy's closet, pointing to different swatches of silk and sequin strewn skirts, eyes wide as Mindy plucked out the different suggestions, draping them across her daughter's tiny form.

Some nights he sat in his den, reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose, trying to review medical journals, and he would hear poorly muffled giggles floating through the air. It only took seconds for him to find himself leaning casually on the door frame to Mindy's ridiculously huge walk-in closet, his work forgotten. Alana liked to mirror her mother, flipping her hair flamboyantly, twirling in front of the full length mirror, sighing dramatically when told she needed to hurry up and get dressed.

He nodded at her, feigning interest in the jewelry before him, noting the sparkle in her eyes. She sighed happily, laying her head against his chest as he carried her into the living room. Peeking up at him through her eyelashes, she bit her bottom lip. "Um, Daddy?"

Her eyes were curious, even if her voice was tentative. "Yes?"

She swallowed, picking at the button on his shirt. "Did you like my birthday party?" She avoided looking at him and took a deep breath, letting out a long string of words. "Because birthday's are really fun, and sometimes people get really cool presents at their birthday parties, and they always have lots of fun, and there's cake, and even balloons, and I like balloons, even if you don't, and…" She paused to take another breath. "Why wouldn't you want to have fun, daddy?" She was getting a little agitated, wiggling around in his arms as he sat down on the sofa. "A birthday party wouldn't make you mad, would it?"

Her eyes were wide, full of concern, and then he knew. Mindy. He'd known the second he'd told her 'no party' that the gears began turning, and that a surprise party was on the immediate horizon. Surprisingly, she'd pulled Alana into her plans, although he couldn't see the sense in relying on a four year old to keep a secret. He smiled to himself, finding that he didn't mind all that much. "No, sweetie, it wouldn't make me mad."

"I knew it. Mommy says you don't want a party because you feel old. But mommy likes parties and she's old too."

Danny laughed, snorting. "Yes, sweetie. We're the same age, but don't go saying that around her, ok?"

As if on cue, Mindy sauntered into the room, wrapped in a fluffy pink bathrobe, her damp hair falling over her shoulders. "Alana, I told you not to run to the door every time you hear someone." She tucked herself in next to Danny, leaning forward to drop a few tickling smooches on her daughter before she turned her attention to her exhausted husband.

Absentmindedly, she ran her fingers through the hair at his nape, stretching upward to press her lips into the hollow beneath his ear, pausing briefly to breathe him in. The ghost of the day's cologne wafted up to her nose, paired with a pleasant musk imbued with his body heat. She nuzzled the stubble along his jaw line before pulling back. "How was it?"

He sighed. "She'll be fine. I chatted with some of her neighbors, asked them to keep an eye on her. Stevie promised that he'd look in on her in the evenings." Alana wiggled in his lap, stretching out across both her parents, an involuntary yawn overtaking her. Danny ran his fingers through her silky hair distractedly. "She's so stubbornly independent. I could barely even get her to agree to that."

Mindy laughed. "It's your lot in life to be exasperated with stubbornly independent women, isn't it?"

He felt himself smiling, in spite of the irritation he was still feeling over his mother's accident. Mindy's clear eyes always made whatever sense of disquiet he was feeling disappear. "I think 'exasperated' may not carry enough weight. You all drive me insane. Promise me you won't try to scrape ice off the steps when you're an old lady with brittle bones."

She snorted. "I promise. And also, I promise not to do it when I'm hot and young, and have totally strong bones. I promise not to ever _ever_ do it."

He shook his head. "She even argued with me about having a specialist I know look at her ankle. I had to tell her we'd come over for dinner twice a week for three months just to get her to agree."

"Yay! I love Nonna Maria, she always sneaks me candy!" Mindy and Danny both turned to their daughter, who quickly slapped both her hands over her mouth, eyes wide. "I mean, Nonna doesn't give me candy…. Ever." As an afterthought she added, "Nonna doesn't even like candy."

Danny frowned. "Alright, put a sock in it. You know what I said about lying." Alana nodded, darting her eyes toward Mindy. Danny continued. "It's ok that Nonna gives you candy sometimes." He turned toward Mindy. "Speaking of lying, Alana was asking me about birthday parties earlier. Any idea why?"

Mindy stared at him with wide eyed innocence. "Nope."

Alana looked nervously from her father to her mother, wiggling in their laps, a sudden inspiration coming over her. "I think it's my bedtime. Can I go brush my teeth?"

They both nodded and she scurried across the living room, disappearing down the hall toward the bathroom. Danny pulled Mindy into his arms, settling her against his chest, her head tucked underneath his chin. "No surprise party, Mindy."

"I don't know what you're talking about." She closed her eyes, sighing contentedly against his chest, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"Right."

"I missed you." She twisted in his arms, scooting closer. She pulled his face down to hers, kissing him soundly. She marveled at how his lips still had the ability to twist her insides around, to create sparks that would undoubtedly morph into a full blown conflagration.

"It's only been four hours. You saw me at the office." He was mumbling against her lips, unable to pull away completely. His hands threaded through her hair, cradling her head for a moment, before one crept to her face. He loved to draw circles with his thumb along the soft skin of her cheek.

"Not like this." She shifted again, this time straddling him, the robe falling open slightly. Her fingers tugged at the buttons on his shirt, freeing several of them. "You've gotten home so late every night this week. I haven't seen you like this in a while."

He withdrew his lips from hers, searching her face. "I'm sorry, Mindy. It's just—"

She cut him off, pained by the genuine regret she saw in his eyes. She hadn't mean to actually make him feel bad. "No, Danny, don't apologize. That's life. It's fine. We're allowed to miss each other without it being anyone's fault." She threaded her arms around his neck, pulling him back to her, a broad smile on her face. "Besides, reuniting is so fun."

They resumed their reunion, getting a little too heated for the living room couch. Just as Danny was about to suggest they move things to the bedroom, a familiar chirpy little voice echoed through the air, and patter of little feet alerted them to Alana's return.

She had changed into her favorite princess nightgown, and was clutching a book to her chest. Her nightly bedtime ritual consisted of reading one book before lights out. One book, that is, unless daddy was the one doing the reading, and then usually she could talk her way into a second one. He was a bit of a pushover.

Mindy extracted herself from Danny's embrace, cinching the belt of her robe again as she approached her daughter, scooping her up. She turned to Danny. "Your turn to read?"

Alana nodded enthusiastically, holding her book out. "It's _Clifford the Big Red Dog_, Daddy." She looked at Mindy, eyebrows raised. "Do you like big dogs daddy?"

Danny laughed as he followed them into her room. "Sure. They're very nice, but Clifford's too big to live in the city."

Alana looked at the cover of her book, noting that Clifford was as big as Emily's house. "Yeah, but a smaller dog could live in the city, right?"

Danny eyed Mindy suspiciously, and she returned his gaze with an innocent look of her own. "Um, sure sweetie."

Alana, feeling reassured, sighed happily. "Good."

They settled into their daughter's bed, squeezing the little girl in between them. She had a stack of books settled on the night stand beside them, a clear indication that she would beg for more stories. Danny perused them quickly, noting that they were all dog books. He sighed. "Oh, boy."

Mindy laughed as he started the first of many books.


	7. I'll Make It Up To You

**A/N: Another night of drunken drabbles. This one was from a prompt from grelca... ****_Danny and Mindy go to dinner after the esb and it is flufftastic_**... **Although, they didn't quite make it out of the esb, it is pretty flufftastic :P**

His hand slipped between her legs, traveling underneath the surprisingly long skirt she wore, skimming the soft skin of her thigh. She pulled away from his kiss, gasping slightly. "Oh my god, Danny we're in public!"

He pulled away from her lips, his hand retreating slowly from beneath the garment. "Then let's get out of here." Danny couldn't ignore the obvious gawkers around them, or the even more obvious arousal making itself known between them. He scrambled to his feet, and pulled Mindy up along with him. He cleared his throat loudly. "Do you…. uh, can dinner wait?"

She looked at him, narrowing her eyes slightly. "You horny old perv, way to deflate the most romantic moment of my life."

His face fell, and apology ready at his lips, but the smile splitting across her face stopped him, suddenly making the anxiety in his chest dissipate. Unable to quell the urge to feel his skin against hers once again, his lips crashed against her own, drinking her in like a man who'd walked miles through the desert. "My place?" The question was harsh, barely a raspy gasp before he returned to her mouth.

He could feel her nod against his hand at her cheek, as he began to drag her toward the elevator. She stopped abruptly, staring in confusion at the polished doors before them. "The elevators are working? Since when?"

Danny stared at her, the realization that she'd walked up a hundred and four flights of stairs suddenly dawning on him. He cupped her face in his hands, pulling her gently to him. "I love you so much, please don't get mad."

"Mad?"

He nodded, guilt seeping into his extremities. "I left, Mindy. It's one of the stupidest things I've ever done." He didn't want to make excuses for himself, but he couldn't stop the words from spilling out. "But to be fair, you never agreed to this. You never said one way or the other. Even in that movie you love so much, she agreed that meeting on the Brooklyn Bridge would be the answer. You wouldn't even agree that not showing up meant you didn't want to be together. So yes, I just came up on the elevator."

Fear shot through him, not the first time since he'd realized the depth of his love for the woman standing in front of him. Her eyes widened, the fire of indignation lighting them. "Are you _kidding _me, Castellano? What happened to "I'll wait all night?" What was that? You're lying already?"

His mouth set in a firm line. "I haven't lied about anything tonight. I love you, and I'm an idiot, and I want to spend tonight with you, and tomorrow, and the rest of every day until we both die, probably together in some sort of freak accident, ok?"

She smiled, in spite of her desire to remain angry with him. "You're such an idiot." The words didn't quite carry the weight she wanted, her eyes sparkling behind them, the corners of her mouth completely turned up. "You should have stayed anyway."

"I know."

The earnest desire in his eyes played havoc with her gut, twisting it in an impossible to ignore way. "Make it up to me." She'd drawn closer to him, pressing up against his chest, her lips finding their way to his neck.

Feeling suddenly bold, Danny held her from him slightly, searching her face. "I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you let me."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Danny! Is that a marriage proposal?"

His heart leapt out of his chest at the joyous expression on her face. He'd hardly expected such a reaction, barely even daring to dream that she'd consider spending the rest of her life with him, especially after the mess he'd made of things. "Yes, but we'll pretend it isn't, since I don't even have a ring." His mind was already leaping ahead, mentally calculating when he'd be able to get out to Staten and ask his mother for his nona's ring. He looked down at her dreamy smile, ignoring the whoosh of the elevator doors gliding open. "Can I take that inebriated looking expression on your face as a yes?"

She grinned, threading her arm behind him, finding that perfect spot nestled under his chin. "I don't know, Castellano. Let me see the ring first, then maybe you'll get a definitive answer."

He knew, with a certainty that floored him, that she'd say yes, that they'd spend the next several decades arguing and making up in the best of ways. He couldn't wait to start with the most attentive apology ever composed.

He hugged her tight as they slipped in the elevator, reaching forward to press one of the buttons. "Which floor did you leave your shoes and coat on?"

Surprised, she glanced up at him. "What?"

"Come on, I know you made a mental note so we could go back and get them." He felt her relax into him, perhaps for the first time truly realizing what she'd gained tonight.

Nuzzling into his neck, she crept up to his ear, leaving a trail of kisses along the way, finally whispering the floor number, her voice slightly tinged with amusement as he reached forward and punched the corresponding button.

They rode in happy silence, clinging to one another, a hand here and there creeping to not so appropriate places. A realization settled upon Mindy, and she jerked away from him, her eyes wider than a child discovering the ability to pout. She reached up, cradling his jaw in her hand. She took a deep breath, donning her inner storytelling robes. "Danny Castellano, I love you. I really do."

He sighed, a tension he'd never known was in him, snapping like an old rubber band. "Thank you, Mindy." He hugged her closer. "I meant what I said, I can't believe I found you." A brief, yet frantic kiss followed. "I can't lose you again."

"You won't."

"Believe me, I know."

_El Fin._


	8. The Three of Us

**A/N: Another hiatus drabble inspired by some moscato and a lovely prompt from snipsnorp on tumblr: ****_Mindy having a baby._**

It's funny how someone can live in a city of millions, twinkling lights going at all hours of the night, and still feel like the world is an impossibly small place, populated by a mere three inhabitants, that nothing else matters. That's how Danny Castellano feels.

Sometimes he forgets that there's this hustling bustling urban expanse surrounding him. It's easy, when he's greeted by Mindy, home on early maternity leave (her blood pressure is worrisome ok?) just lounging on his (alright, _their_) couch, dipping her finger into the remnants of a bag of sour candy, licking the face-puckering dust off her index finger with a relish he'd be happy to feel about anything at all, it's perfect.

Today is the same as yesterday, and hopefully the day after, except this time she stretches her arms upward, beckoning him to hurry over, to drop his things in a heap at the door and rush to her. He obliges, how could he not?

When her arms thread around his neck, her nose tucking into the hollow of his ear, he finally feels like he's home. She kisses him, the wet trail at his neck suddenly jumping to his lips, as she hungrily devours him. He steels himself against it, knowing it's a dead-end road. She's been particularly uninterested in sex lately, and he can hardly blame her, in her third trimester. An all encompassing discomfort pervades her, but he loves that she still feels so affectionate toward him.

Finally withdrawing from him, she leans back, resting her hands on her impossibly swollen stomach. "No one ever told me how boring this is. I've marathoned every season of _House Hunters _and even read through all the medical journals you left on your nightstand." She frowns. "Which, by the way, how very rude of you to leave the one about vestigial limbs on the top of the pile. I'm not going to sleep for a week now, thank you very much."

A low chuckle escapes him as he eased down beside her, instinctively drawing her legs up into his lap, his fingers probing tentatively at her calves. "You know there are no tails, no extra hands, or fingers. You looked at the last ultrasound for hours."

She smiles, involuntarily, her lips twitching as she tries to hide the movement. Giving up, she turns her sparkling eyes to him. "I know. Wasn't it cute?"

Laughing, he eases down to her swollen ankles, which he knows she's self-conscious about (a tearful and unexpected conversation about cankles at two in the morning clued him in on this particular insecurity) and tenderly massages them. "I recorded three Ken Burns documentaries for you. You can't tell me you didn't even take a glance at them?"

"First of all. I've already seen the one about prohibition. I was hoping to see some cute flapper outfits, I was severly disappointed. And, second of all, I told you to stop wasting space on the DVR with documentaries. You know they show the same ones over and over again."

The irritated tone slowly seeps out of her voice as he works at her feet, pressing firmly into her arch, he is rewarded with an involuntary sigh as her eyes roll back. "Better?"

Quite suddenly she feels impossibly tired, even though she slept till noon and spent most of the day lounging on the couch (doctor's orders, people!). A yawn escapes her, her chin dropping to her chest as she stretches in a very feline manner. She reaches for him, her arms suspended in the air in front of her, unable to shift effectively in his direction.

Her silent request is immediately filled as he slips in behind her on the couch. His arms encircle her, crossing just below her breasts, the swell of her abdomen jutting out in front of them.

Nose in her hair, as it usually is in this position, the smell of flowers and some indefinable spice he's never been able to place infiltrates his sinuses. The only answer is to breathe deeply, thinking maybe this time his olfactory senses will fire some synapse in his brain, connect the dots. It doesn't, and the mystery scent simply remains something of her own.

Within minutes she's snoring, sleep overtaking her body as his heat seeps into her skin. He knows she's uncomfortable, counting the days until she can hold their child in her arms, until she can once again safely eat her favorite sushi, but he loves this. He loves the feel of his palm against her belly, the alien movements of their child shifting underneath his touch, his fingers splayed impossibly wide against her smooth skin.

It isn't long before he's asleep too, his breath puffing at the hair against her neck. Moments like these, it's hard to believe anyone else exists.


	9. Just a Dream

**a/n: evmlove prompted for a story about Mindy's dream in the deleted scenes. This probably isn't exactly what she asked for, but it is the wine soaked drabble that resulted.**

"Hey Min, uh…" Danny stood awkwardly in her doorway, leaning against the door jamb like some overpaid Abercrombie and Fitch model.

Mindy narrowed her eyes. "Yeah…"

He was wet. Why the hell was he wet? The raindrops sitting like little crystals in his hair, his shirt soaked to the skin, clinging to the muscles, each ridge defined. Her mouth was dry.

"I think I locked my keys in my car."

Car? Since when did Danny have a car? It was probably some, mid life crisis thing, the old man trying to recapture his youth in the clutches of a over priced, souped up, muscle car… probably a convertible. She snorted.

When she didn't respond, he continued. "And it's raining… so, could you maybe give me a ride home?"

Wait… did she have a car? She must, since Mr. No-nonsense Castellano was asking her for a ride, but… for the life of her she couldn't remember what kind of car it was. "Sure, Danny, just let me get my keys."

She looked down, fishing in her purse, dipping down through the candy wrappers and her ziploc underwear baggie. Aha! Keys, attached to a sparkly Hello Kitty keyring. She looked up, dangling the keys in front of her triumphantly. "Found them. See?..." She trailed off, blinking rapidly.

They were now on the street, walking purposefully through the pouring rain to her car. Her bright purple Audi. A sleek little thing, with shiny chrome rims. Was she going through a midlife crisis too?

Without a word, they both slipped into her car, the conditioned leather seats soft against her skin as she adjusted the seat, buckling herself in. The engine roared to life as she turned the key in the ignition, and she glided out into traffic, seamlessly merging with the other cars.

They drove, the station automatically tuning into her favorite pop song, Danny actually keeping time with the beat, his hand tapping a rhythm out on his thigh. Was this invasion of the body snatchers or something? "You like Katy Perry now?"

"I've always liked Katy Perry." He sounded so sure, it totally obliterated the niggling doubt in the back of her mind.

"Of course." She maneuvered the car into the open space in front of Danny's building, easily wedging the Audi into the perfectly sized gap between the other two sports cars parked there. God, Danny had some swanky neighbors.

"So…" She looked at him, unsure of what to do. Was it standard protocol to walk him to the door? He wasn't exactly a shrinking violet, afraid of the people on the street, shoving annoying flyers in people's faces, but she didn't really know.

Her hand immediately went to the door handle, pulling on it. She found herself on the sidewalk, the rain still coming down in sheets, soaking her to the bone. Well that was stupid. What the hell? She grabbed Danny by the arm and they ran together to the shelter of his stoop, both panting as they tried to regain their breath.

She didn't let go, instead trailing her fingers from his wet forearm to the soaked cotton of his tshirt. Why wasn't he wearing his jacket? He'd had it on in the office, hadn't he? She shrugged, turning her attention back to the sensation of her fingertips against his wet skin. Her mind must have been playing tricks on her.

"Danny, I…" She couldn't stop thinking about the damn art show, the provocative nudes Christina had snapped of this man. This man, who seemed like a closed book, someone who would never be that vulnerable for another person. This man whose body she'd seen in stark detail, ten times magnified. She felt a stirring in the pit of her stomach, a heat morphing into an out of control conflagration as her eyes traveled upward.

Her eyes met his, and it was over. The passion she felt pumping away matched in the bottomless dark pools of his eyes. Oh hell.

His hands lifted, touching her, their grip confident against her. His expression was serious, and yet there was a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips, the ghost of a crooked smile plucking some indefinable string within her. "We both know I didn't need a ride home."

Oh right. There was the subway, and stuff… What the hell was going on?

Before she could voice her confusion, Danny jerked her roughly to him, crushing his lips against hers. It was a soul searing kiss, every ounce of passion boiling away beneath the surface pouring into it.

She gave into it, practically climbing him. She was King Kong and Danny was the Empire State Building, her hands slipping under his shirt to find a hold. Her momentum pushed him back, slamming his body against his silken sheets.

His sheets? She withdrew for a second, looking around her. They were in his bed, their clothes strewn haphazardly across his room, a pair of boxers hanging incriminatingly from his ceiling fan.

This is what she wanted, to see the body she'd memorized from the artistically posed black and white photos, one of which she'd surreptitiously bought using her go-to alias. She trailed her fingers along the sprinkling of hair. Sighing grandly she leaned forward, seeking his lips again.

Before she knew it, she was beneath him, his mouth peppering hot wet kisses across her skin, breathless as the desire consumed her. "Danny-"

He took her plea at face value, reaching between them to dip into her, testing the waters. She was more than ready for him, moaning his name a second time as she gyrated her hips against his hand. She wanted more than this. She wanted the weight of him, pressing her into the mattress, their skin flush, thrusting morphing into grinding. For God's sake, she wanted Danny Castellano to fuck her, mercilessly.

She opened her mouth to voice the plea, but before any sound could escape, her eyes flew open, the only sound in the room her own breathless panting, utter darkness around her. She looked around, floating back to earth slowly.

A dream? A god damned dream! She took a deep breath, hoping she hadn't woken the man sleeping next to her.

"What's wrong?"

Shit. Jason was staring at her, concern tinging his features. "Uh, nothing. I, uh, just had a weird dream."


	10. When exactly?

**a/n: another prompt received on tumblr. **_"Prompt for you, Two weeks post esb Mindy asks Danny how long he's been pining for her ?"_

They were kissing, macking like teenagers hiding under the bleachers. Danny knew, somehow, that it was her favorite part (ok, so maybe not absolute favorite, but it was right up there with mind blowing orgasms, which he was totally capable of too, but sometimes you just needed a hardcore makeout sesh).

She could hear him mumbling it into her skin as he tore his lips away from hers, trailing hot kisses down her neck, pausing in the valley of her breasts. The endearment soaked into her skin.

She still hadn't said it back, those three little words that would somehow make it all real, irreversible even. She didn't know why exactly, but there was a tiny part of her holding back, a part of her immune to the affectionate nibbles on her bottom lip when he got impatient. Some wounded portion of her psyche that wouldn't allow her to let go completely.

His hand dropped to her waistband, the last signal that he was done with the preamble. She let her own hand light on his wrist, encircling him.

He pulled back, a slight look of confusion drawing his eyebrows together as his motions stilled. She opened her mouth to ask the question that had been running around in circles for weeks, but nothing came out, and she was left looking like a gasping goldfish.

"What is it?" His confusion had almost immediately morphed into concern, his impatient touch instantly easing back, turning into a somewhat comforting caress. "Mindy?"

"How long?" The words escaped her quietly as if she didn't really want to utter them. She put more space between their overly excited bodies. Even though she ached to reestablish contact, she still had to ask the question that had been burning inside her since the very moment they'd reconciled.

Danny's mouth snapped shut. A lifelong habit of not saying what he felt suddenly washed over him yet again, but he pushed past it. "Too long," Danny sighed against her skin.

"No really, Danny, how long?" Suddenly it was vital that she know the exact moment he knew, the moment he wanted to be with her and no one else.

"I've always known."

Her eyes widened, lit with disbelief. "What!" Her palms tingles with the urge to smack him. "Are you kidding me, Castellano?"

Embarrassment sent the blood rushing to his face, the heat of his skin causing a fine sheen of perspiration to glisten at his brow. "Well, I mean, not... always, but-"

She cut him off, her indignation tumbling out. "Lying again, I see. Anything to get in the hot girl's pants."

"What! No! That's not, I mean, you never wear pants anyway." He shook his head. What the hell was he trying to say? Oh yeah. "I just mean, I didn't know that I knew... you know?"

He took a deep breath, prepared to fill her in on every little detail of every moment he'd felt anything for her. "Mindy, there was this uncomfortable tropical storm-"

"Hurricane would be much better imagery, you never had this much trouble with words in your letters."

"Well, you didn't interrupt me every five seconds when I was writing-" He shook his head again, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Stop distracting me! Fine, there was this 'hurricane' inside of me everytime we had an argument, everytime you made me do something new, every time you made me question myself. And I didn't know what to make of it. I thought I needed to get away from it before it destroyed me."

She sat back against her pillows, her lips pursed as she contemplated his words. "Well that's not exactly a resounding declaration of your undying love." She looked away from him, picking at the bedspread. "Hurricane Mindy blowing into town, tearing down Chez Castellano, drowning all the short Italian occupants."

"Short? I'm taller than you, this is the height of the average male world wide. I can't help it of there are a bunch of steroids in the meat fed to people who grew up in-" He stopped, the words halting as he looked at her, vulnerability obvious in her posture. She still wasn't looking at him.

He scooted closer to her, his arms cradling her to him. "Hey. Let me finish, please." He spoke the words softly against her neck, his nose buried in her hair.

He felt her relax, the surprising tenseness disappearing as quickly as it had shown up. "Finally, Hurricane Mindy did leave, and I knew I should have been relieved, but all I felt was this ache in my chest where she used to whip up the waves."

"Yeah?"

"I'd never missed anyone like that. Those letters, they were a lifeline, Min. If I weren't such a screwup you would have known a long time ago."

She pulled away from him. "That's all very... romantic and lyrical Danny, but when did you know? For real, like I-love-this-woman-she-is-my-happy-ending kind of know?"

"Your St. Bart's story, when you grabbed my hand, and started talking about these things that... I hadn't dared to imagine with anyone in such a long time."

"Oh my God, what the hell took you so long?" She reached forward and pinched him, hard.

He wiggled out of her grasp, laughing. "Hey, don't lay this on me. You were kind of preoccupied with other people."

"Not if you had said something!"

Her earnest expression melted his insides into a gooey puddle, the laughter in his eyes immediately replaced with soft awe. "Yeah?" He meant to say more, but his throat was thick, his chest tight.

"Yeah." Something released inside of her, a bubble of warmth bursting in her chest, sending the words to the surface. "I love you too, you know."

"When?"

"I knew the moment you kissed me the first time."

"Really?"

She nodded. "Haven't you ever had a food craving, a deep down want for a particular something or other, but just couldn't quite figure out what it was? Like there's this part of your brain saying 'Nope, that's not it' every time you try something different, but the craving just won't go away, so you keep trying and trying." Her eyes sparkled as she got into her description. "But then one day, you pick up your favorite ice cream, not even thinking, and as soon as the spoon touches your tongue, everything clicks into place, and it just hits the spot like nothing you've ever had." She smiled broadly, proud of her articulate description. "You're the worst craving I've ever had, Danny. The absolute worst."

"The worst?"

"Yeah, because unlike most cravings, the more I have, the more I want." She reached for him, her fingers threading through the hair at his nape as she drew his face down to hers. "You gonna give me another helping?"

He growled into her mouth, dragging her on top of him. "Gladly."


	11. The Sound of Your Voice

**A/N: I must issue a warning, this is smut, of a type that I'm not familiar with writing, so it could be a hit or miss.**

**It comes from this prompt: **_Gloriagilbertpatch - In the spirit of wine, how about some amorous drunk dialing?_ - **I hope this is what she meant by "amorous" :P**

So apparently gas station wine tasted like ten day old prison hooch, or at least what Mindy thought ten day old prison hooch (did they make that in a toilet?) would have tasted like, if she'd ever had the opportunity (misfortune?) to sample it. It made her tongue stick to the roof of her mouth, the liquid doing little to relieve her parched state.

Ok, so maybe the wine wasn't entirely to blame for her dehydration. The pillow at her side was thoroughly soaked with her tears, the salty streams still trailing down her skin and dripping down onto her shirt. Crying over Cliff Gilbert. Two damn days ago she would have laughed in Miss Cleo's face if she'd suggested such a thing had lain in her future, and now it just seemed like it had always been inevitable. He'd been too good to be true.

A mature thirty something man with a successful career, and a no nonsense way of living his life, he was out of Mindy's league. Danny had been wrong. Stupid Danny, stupid stupid, hermit Danny, hiding in his hotel room all week, stupid stick in the mud probably watching boring black and white movies while eating room service, complaining about the price chicken pot pie. What a fucking tightwad.

She jerked the wine bottle up once again, the lip almost clinking against her teeth in her rush to take the next gulp. She made conscious effort to be more careful, treating the bottle like a faberge egg. The last thing she needed was a chipped tooth, then she'd truly be undateable. She gingerly tipped the bottle up, draining the last of its contents in a huge swallow.

This whole situation really was all Danny's fault, she told herself, finding her phone in the crevices of her disheveled bedding. If he hadn't _encouraged _her to go after the stupid lawyer _none _of this would be happening. He deserved a piece of her mind.

Danny groaned, the fog wrapped around his head pierced by the tell tale chirping of his cell phone. He threw his arm out, slamming it gracelessly against the nightstand as he searched for the thing. He caught the device, dragging it to his face, belatedly remembering that he might actually need to pry his face from the indentation on the pillow in order to actually speak into the mic.

* * *

><p>A strand of saliva spanned the gap between the corner of his mouth and the soft fabric of the pillow case, red sleep marks mingling with the stubble along his jaw. He squinted at the digital clock. Who the hell was calling him anyway?<p>

Eyes still a bit bleary, he tried to focus on the picture glowing in his hand, the effects of an entire bottle of Jameson making him almost cross eyed. Two smiling Mindys stared up from his palm, alternately making his heart skip and his stomach lurch. What did she want?

He tapped the green icon, bringing the device to his ear. "Mindy?" The gruff irritation he'd intended someone never materialized, instead resulting in a hoarse whisper, roughened by shot after shot of ill advised whiskey.

"Daniel?"

She sounded strange to him, like someone walking down a tunnel, her voice echoing off the bricks. His tongue was slow, thicker somehow than usual, unable to voice the worry at the forefront of his mind. She took the pause as an opportunity to continue.

"I may never have sex again, and it's all your fault."

The concern drained out of him, replaced by the exasperated annoyance he'd come to expect when he heard her voice. He sighed. "What happened?" He was fully resigned to being her sounding board, even if he was in no position to offer any kind of emotional support.

"You encouraged me to go after someone totally out of my league! Where exactly do you get off?"

Finally his foggy brain registered the familiar tone of her voice. This was Mindy swimming in the bottom of a bottle of California's cheapest red. He opened his mouth to respond but she steamrolled him again. "MIndy, I didn't-"

"Of course he figured it out!"

His stomach dropped to his toes, residual embarrassment from his previous misunderstanding making his face hot. "Mindy, he's not who-"

She ignored him, continuing with her tirade. "And now I'll have to live my life a lonely spinster, adopting cats I find on the subway, doomed to never have another orgasm in my _entire _life!"

Danny snorted, fed up with her little rant. "Please, don't you have one of those things? Those bunny things?"

"Oh my god, Danny, are you seriously telling me to use a rabbit vibrator right now?! You are the worst. I'm baring my soul, my lonely lonely soul, and you're suggesting I touch myself to make it all better."

"Well, it couldn't make it worse." He didn't know what he was saying, the volume of his voice inexplicably increasing with each exchange. All he wanted was for this conversation to end. He'd held his tongue for too long, the scent of her lavender lotion permeating every nook in his bedroom since her one and only night there, the ghostly sensation of her tucked up beneath his chin, chasing through him moments before he woke up.

If he closed his eyes, he could imagine she was next to him, pressed up against him, the soft curve of her ass nestled against lap, the blood coursing through him as his heart rate picked up. He groaned as he suppressed the urge to slip his hand down the front of his boxers.

He heard her sigh, the sound almost raspy coming through the tinny speaker. "Maybe you're right."

His eyes shot open, a jolt of desire like electricity singing through him. "Mindy." Her name very much like a warning on his lips, his jaw tightening as he struggled to retain his composure. When she didn't heed his warning, didn't backpedal out of this awkward conversation, a switch flipped in Danny, the alcohol emboldening him. "I am right… touch yourself."

* * *

><p>Mindy gasped, the heat of a flush creeping up her neck, her fingers already brushing at the elastic waist of her pajamas. Was this actually happening, or was it some alcohol induced hallucination? She swallowed. "I can't just <em>do <em>that. You have to… say something…"

It wasn't quite true, the thin material of her panties already damp with arousal, her fingers slipping down in search of a more definitive pleasure. A tiny moan escaped on a breathy exhalation. "Come on, Danny."

She leaned back, getting more comfortable, a heady feeling engulfing her as the alcohol lowered her inhibitions. She could hear his breathing on the other end of the line, a harsh staccato rhythm betraying his arousal. He responded with a strangled sound, saying words that normally would have set his face ablaze, a fine sheen of perspiration lighting on his brow. "I'm so hard, Mindy."

Her eyes popped open, completely taken out of the moment. "You are?!" She couldn't hide the surprise, a little squeak sounding on the last syllable, knowledge of his physical state sending a surge of warmth across the surface of her skin. She swallowed, trying to make light of this. "Oh my god, were you watching porn?"

"What! NO!" His breathing was heavier now, presumably from frustration. "Mindy… it's…" He cleared his throat, wishing the whiskey still impaired his judgment. "... the thought of your skin pressed up against me, your hot breath in my ear as you get yourself off."

She closed her eyes, blocking out all sensation that wasn't the sound of his voice, or the feel of her fingers sweeping across the slick nub nestled in the folds of her labia, the noise of drums in her ears as her heart pounded away. "Keep talking."

The deep throated whisper was enough to encourage Danny, he pushed on, his voice strained. "The smell of your hair could do it, like flowers basking in the sun as you breeze past me."

She moaned at his words, dropping her phone down on the pillow beside her, now switched to speaker. Her fingers slipped further down, parting the folds as she delved inside, grinding the base of her palm against her engorged clit, a spasmodic shudder seizing her. Her free hand journeying underneath her tshirt, palming her breast. She mumbled into the speaker incoherently, the syllables failing to coalesce into any real words.

He grunted, momentarily losing the ability to speak. He knew this wasn't how phone sex was supposed to work. It was supposed to be low spoken and crudely phrased sex acts, something to lose yourself in while your baser instincts took over. "The taste of your skin against my tongue, salty with sweat, bitter lotion perfuming…" He trailed off, losing the vein of his speech as he approached a point of no return. "Fuck, Min…"

Her frantic mumbling abruptly shifted, Danny's name repeating like a mantra as she plunged over the edge completely, lost in a sea of sensation. He finally let go, clamping his jaw down in an effort not to call out the words perched on his vocal chords, the ones that could make things infinitely more awkward than they were already going to be.

Mindy lay back on the bed, panting into the quiet room, her breaths echoing off the walls, Danny's own harsh breathing at a lower volume coming from the speaker at her ear. She waited, caught between the urge to hang up abruptly and bury her face in the pillow, latent embarrassment flooding her, and the equally strong desire to ask Danny what the hell had just happened. "What the hell was that?"

"Mindy." He stopped, clearly unsure of his next words. "I'm coming over…. okay?"

"Okay."


	12. The Feel of Your Skin

**A/N: Follow up chapter to "The sound of your voice." I couldn't ****_not_**** write it ok. :P As always, reviews and comments make me utterly happy (and totally encourage me). Let me know what you think.**

Mindy dashed into her bathroom, quickly running a comb through her messy hair, cleaning up the pathetic streaks of mascara running down her face. Her eyes were glassy, the alcohol combined with the explosion of endorphins making them gleam. She blushed at the recent memory, warmth flooding her once again, honey pooling in the pit of her stomach.

She glanced down at her shirt. Unacceptable. Whirlin around a little too quickly, she stumbled out of the bathroom, making a beeline for her suitcase, it's contents strews across the plush carpet. She froze, halfway into her task, hands full of silken underthings, her heart beating in wildly in fluttery anticipation. What the hell was she doing? Her lips had never touched his, her hands had never skimmed along the light trail of hair disappearing beneath his belt buckle. She didn't know what he expected.

Blowing out a long breath she dropped the lingerie, kicking it and the rest of her wardrobe underneath the bed. Her room looked like a tornado had hit it, leftover room service on the tiny table, empty wine bottles clinking against each other as she shoved everything she could get her hands on beneath the bed.

She swallowed, nervously checking the time on the clock. Where the hell was he? A long sigh escaped, she felt more disappointed than she'd thought possible. He'd gotten cold feet, burrowed back into his blankets, trying to forget the insanity of impromptu phone sex.

She stomped back over to her night stand, snatching up the last bottle of wine, the screw cap coming off in her hand with little encouragement. She winced at the acidic liquid splashing against the back of her throat.

She'd made some bad decisions in the past, but this was possibly one of the worst. Danny had somehow become her closest friend in the past year, and she'd pushed back the persistent attraction she'd always felt for him, hoping it would go away in the face of each new relationship she embarked upon, but apparently it had been residing just below the surface, ready to jump out at the first drunken opportunity.

She was pacing now, her heel spinning quickly in the plush carpeting each time she took four steps, the wine bottle making quicker and quicker trips to her lips. The breaths occasionally catching in her chest became more rapid, and she felt perilously close to tears once again. The pleasant afterglow of a quick climax, dissipating with each turn, a flush of embarrassment replacing it.

How the hell could she gloss over this? Pretend it was some big joke? 'Ha, Danny, wasn't that funny when I drunk dialed you and _pretended_ to have phone sex. Ha. Ha. Ha.' No, that wouldn't work. Maybe she could convince him she'd had some bad room service, she'd been feverish with weird food poisoning and had no recollection of the phone call.

"Damn it!" Her exclamation echoed against the walls, crumbling into a frustrated cry, tears now mingling with the last of the wine. The last of the wine? How long had she been pacing? She glanced at the clock once again, twenty minutes had passed, and the last flicker of hope that he was still coming was snuffed out.

She dropped the empty bottle and turned back to her messy bed. She'd sleep this off and just pretend it never happened. If he brought it up, she'd feign cluelessness. Just as she slipped her hand beneath the coverlet, tears beginning to fall in earnest, there was an impatient knock at her door.

"Mindy?"

His voice was louder than necessary, and she rushed to the door before he garnered unwanted attention from the other guests. The sight that greeted her was surprising, and it silenced whatever questions or accusations on the tip of her tongue.

He was panting, as though he'd run to her, unsightly sweat stains on the plain white tee. She crinkled her nose in confusion, trying to push past the cloud of wine. "Danny… what..? What took you so long?"

Rather than answer, he crossed the threshold, immediately drawing her into a tight embrace, his lips crashing down on hers without preamble. Paralyzed by surprise, Mindy stood still under the onslaught, some fuzzy corner of her mind screaming at her to kiss him back.

He pulled away before the impulse could reach her lips. "No more Cliff?" He was panting as he slowly backed away from her, his searching hands dropping back to his sides. For the first time she noticed the haggard expression on his face, deep circles under his eyes, stubble darkening his jaw.

She shook her head, unable to find her voice, her fingers travelling to trace just beneath his cheek bone. "Danny, has something happened?"

In response, he pushed further into her room, kicking the door shut behind him and gathering her up once more. This time he paused a millimeter from her lips, his breaths puffing out hotly against her own. Her eyes drifted shut, momentarily forgetting her curiosity, her heart beating wildly under his touch. She waited, unable to process the gentle touch at her cheek, the shuddering in his chest as he took a deep breath. "Mindy… I… I want you."

It was enough, for the moment, and she sprang upward, her toes propelling her across the inch wide gap between them, her arms winding possessively around his neck. She could feel him smiling underneath her lips as they stumbled toward the bed.

They landed in a heap, twin "oomphs" sounding out, Mindy's morphing into a helpless giggle. Danny disentangled himself just enough to shuck off his pants, his shirt following quickly. Impatiently he tugged at her clothing, grateful for the alcohol still buzzing through his veins, steadying his shaky hands.

Completely nude, Mindy lunged for the bedside lamp, eager to plunge the room into darkness and get down to business, but Danny's hands at her waist held her just out of range. "Leave it on."

Her eyes widened as he trailed sloppy wet kisses up her torso, his hands pulling at her almost roughly as he dragged her down to him, aligning their bodies just so. She sucked in a sharp breath, the heat of his skin on hers a sensation she'd imagined, but not quite gotten right. There was nothing comparable to this. He was a furnace, setting her skin on fire at each point of contact.

She was ready again, their brief bout of passion over the phone seemingly only a short bit of foreplay. She felt him, hard at her inner thigh, brushing up against her more surely as his hands grasped her ass.

Shivering with anticipation, Mindy threaded her fingers through his hair, relishing the feel of his mouth against her collarbone as she angled her hips toward him. His name came out on a sigh, quivering with need. "Danny… come on."

"Yeah?" He pulled back from her, surveying the far off expression in her eyes, the flush in her cheeks, even the fresh sheen of perspiration reflecting off her dark skin. He dipped one hand down between them, eliciting a guttural moan from her when he slipped into the heat.

She shook her head, far too close already to continue at this pace. Reaching down to grasp his wrist, she pulled him away, hooking her legs up behind him to draw him closer. She moaned out a decidedly unladylike demand. "Fuck me already."

He laughed, a wicked grin pulling at one corner of his mouth. His eyes, dark with desire, never left hers as he pushed into her at a purposely torturous pace, wincing when he felt her nails dig into his back.

She urged him deeper with her heels, grinding impatiently against him when he didn't immediately begin thrusting into her. Instead he settled inside of her, leaning forward to cradle her face in his hands, dropping gentle kisses along the smooth skin of her cheeks. She moaned, his forward motion grinding his pubic bone against her clit causing her kegels to involuntarily flex against him.

Lips locked together once again, he withdrew slowly, plunging back in, finally hitting a pace Mindy found satisfactory. She clutched at him as he rocked into her, fingers slipping along the musculature of his back, trying in vain to find purchase as her heart thundered in her ears, wave after wave of pulsating pleasure crashing into her.

Arching up off the bed, she pressed closer into him, chest to chest as every muscle in her body contracted, her thighs locking tightly around his hips. She let out an embarrassing noise, somewhere between squeal and grunt, definitely not the sensual moans she'd intended.

Danny continued to thrust into her, the aftershocks of her orgasm sending pleasurable tremors through her, the soles of her feet tingling. His thrusts became frantic, the last one coming as no surprise, his face contorting as he groaned and collapsed on top of her.

Mindful of her possible discomfort, he quickly slipped his arms beneath her, rolling over onto his back. He enjoyed the feel of her splayed across him, her hair fanning out over his chest, the scent of her shampoo wafting up to his nose. He took a deep breath, smiling in satisfaction.

She scooted up, tucking her hand underneath her chin, looking at him thoughtfully for a few minutes. He had a sleepy expression on his face, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. She frowned, remembering the haggard look when she'd first seen him tonight. Something was definitely up with Daniel Castellano.

She reached up, sliding her palm against the plane of his cheek. "Hey… are you okay?"

His eyebrows drew together as he peered at her. "What do you mean?"

"You polished off a bottle of whiskey on a weeknight and engaged in drunken phone sex with a coworker. It's not exactly like you."

"Are you okay?"

"Don't change the subject."

"No, really, Min. Cliff dumped you, from what I gather. Are you okay?" His arms tightened around her, the concern in his voice genuine.

She found it impossible not to melt into him, nodding in answer to his question. "I'm more than okay."

"For the record, I never encouraged you to go after him."

"Yes-"

Danny interrupted her argument, blushing as he continued. "I thought you were talking about me… that night."

Her eyes widened, her lips set in a surprised little 'oh.' "Danny… if I had known…" She trailed off, not really knowing what to say, choosing instead to press gentle kisses against the column of his throat.

He swallowed, fighting against his instinct to keep his life compartmentalized. He sighed. "I called my dad tonight. He lives just outside of LA, and wants me to come visit…" He trailed off, finding it hard to voice the question he'd been ready to leave on her voicemail only hours before.

She perked up, eyes suddenly wide. "Do you want me to come with you?"

He nodded, the tightness in his throat preventing him from uttering a word. She pulled back from him, tucking herself up underneath the sheets, encouraging him to join her as she switched off the bedside lamp. "We need to sleep if we're going to trek through the desert tomorrow."

He nodded again, warmth coursing through him as he spooned her, his arms resting gently beneath her breasts, his nose nestled in the hollow just above her shoulder, the feel of her skin a soothing reminder of all that had taken place tonight.


	13. The Depth of Your Hurt

**A/N: yet another continuation of "the sound of your voice" and "the feel of your skin"... At some point I should probably just make this a story by itself. I've totally lost control of it (in the best way possible I think). Smut, yet again. Oh well. Thanks so much for the reviews on the previous chapter, they made my cold heart grow three sizes :P.**

It was quiet. The sound of an owl hooting somewhere in the distance the only thing filtering through the mesh screens of Alan Castellano's guest bedroom, riding on a gust of cool night air. If anyone were to ever ask Mindy what an acceptable form of camping would be, this would be her answer. Going to stay in a fully furnished house in the middle of nowhere, nature at your fingertips if you wanted it, a soft mattress and fluffy pillows equally accessible.

There wasn't a light glowing in the entire house, not a streetlamp for miles, and yet every single thing around her was illuminated, bathed in the glow of a full moon. It was a strange sight to her, seeing everything in stark detail, and yet not being able to discern any colors. Her mind played tricks on her, telling her what the colors of things were, simply from memory, but in reality everything was just varying shades of blue.

She turned slightly, to look at the face of her bedmate, jostling him slightly as she angled herself for a better view. He was practically glowing in the moonlight, dark lashes fanned out against the illusion of alabaster skin, his equally sooty hair falling across his forehead. If not for the faint rattle at his chest, she would have thought he was a wax figure, perfectly sculpted by the hurts thrust upon hi.

Today had been tough for him, tougher than she'd really expected. She'd always known his bravado was an act of sorts, that beneath the sometimes suffocating machismo, there were hurts that even he dare not delve into. But it had been _years_ since this particular wound had been inflicted, and she'd assumed, wrongfully, that he'd been able to put it behind him.

She lifted her finger, carefully tracing the seam of his lips, a puff of air rushing from his nose tickling her. The heat radiating from him contradicted his moon bathed pallor. She snuggled into that heat, finding her place in the crook of his arm, head nestled against his chest.

It would have been easy to hate Alan Castellano on Danny's behalf. It had torn at her insides seeing him stand shellshocked in the doorway, staring down the man he'd spent so many years trying not to miss. She'd seen the pent up anger immediately slough away, disintegrating in the face of bald faced need.

Suddenly Danny had been thirteen again, rendered speechless at the feet of his father. She'd never seen him so vulnerable. An overwhelming urge to step between him and someone who had the power to crush him with a single word swept over her. She wasn't the protective type, usually preferring to let people deal with things themselves, but this had been too much for her.

So she'd stepped between father and son, under the guise of introducing herself, her heart unclenching just a little as she heard Danny catch his breath at her back. Things had gone a little better from that point on, although it wasn't entirely smooth sailing. All in all, she thought it had been good for him, emotionally draining, but necessary. There had been a few moments where she'd thought things were stretching him a little too far, a rubber band pulled far past the point of elasticity.

There was one thing even she hadn't expected, a surprise that totally threw Danny for a loop. He had a little sister, not even the age Danny himself was when his father walked away. Little Daniela. Mindy wouldn't call her Danni, it didn't seem fair somehow, a constant reminder that Alan had started over, hit the reset button on his life seemingly without a care for those he'd left behind.

Danny had a soft spot for children, she'd seen it with Riley, and again in the awed gaze he gave his little sister. Daniela had possibly been the only reason he hadn't gone through with his plan to sock his father in the jaw, some hairbrained scheme to show him the man he'd become without him. Instead of fisticuffs, or angrily hurled insults, Danny took a lot of walks, dragging Mindy out into the desert, yelling his frustrations out at the open sky, his voice cracking at the most telling moments, taking his frustrations out on the plant life.

She burrowed in closer, suddenly feeling the need to envelope him. The memory of the last little walk of the evening making her heart swell for him.

* * *

><p>It was dusk, the nocturnal creatures already beginning to make themselves known, crickets chirping, and the occasionally super eerie coyote howl as the sky slowly became a conflagration of color, pale blue somehow morphing into fiery red.<p>

They walked in silence, making their way to what was quickly becoming a very familiar joshua tree. He whirled on her, and in another time it might have scared her, his jaw clenched so hard she could see the muscle working in his temple. "Do you know what the worst part is?"

She shook her head. Clearly this was unfamiliar territory for her, and while she could sympathize, she couldn't pretend to know what it was like.

"I don't hate him. I never did." She'd never heard such simple sentences infused with such anguish. "How pathetic is that?"

"Danny… he is your father… it's understandable."

"No. It's not." He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, turning away from her. "I didn't hate him, Mindy, because I didn't blame him. I thought, we must have done something wrong, and I spent a lot of time blaming my mother for something she didn't do." This time his voice did more than crack. She could hear his throat close up as the tears pooling in his eyes threatened to spill over. "Then I realized that was stupid. She worked _so_ hard. It couldn't have been her fault, and Rich was just a baby, so that left him out of the blame game too."

He laughed bitterly, dashing away the moisture spilling onto his cheeks. "I spent an entire year making lists, lists of things to change so he would come back. If I wasn't a pudgy little loser, maybe he'd come back. If hit a home run, maybe he'd come back. If I made straight A's, maybe he'd come back."

She didn't like the way he was standing away from her, shoulders hunched protectively against the outside world, but she was almost afraid to invade his little bubble, so she just let him continue.

"Eventually, there was nothing left to change, and he still hadn't come back, and I realized that I would always be me." Finally he turned back to her, eyes so full of pain it sent a dagger through her heart. "I'm not stupid. I know it wasn't my fault, that I was just a kid, and eventually I was able to see that, logically, but there's always been this part of me that thinks I'm not good enough for anyone to stay." He took a deep breath, pulling his hand out of his pocket to gesture angrily back toward Alan's home. "And _that, _that just feels like a fucking confirmation. I _know_ it's not logical, but I still feel replaced." He let out a long shuddering breath. "Tell me I'm an idiot for feeling this way. Tell me that a sweet little girl has nothing to do with this shit."

His stance had changed once again, the coiled of tension inside of his muscles slowly unwinding, his shoulders slumping as he let out a long breath. She took the opportunity to slide up next to him, arms threading around his torso as her head tucked up under his chin. "You are an idiot. You _will _always be you, and _no one_ can replace you." Biting her bottom lip, she weighed her next words carefully. "Trust me, I tried so hard to find someone to fill this weird Danny shaped space inside of me, and it never worked."

"What?"

She blushed, grateful for burnishing glow of the slowly setting sun. "Danny, this isn't some spur of the moment thing, okay? I just…" For a second it felt like she was on the edge of a cliff, her toes peeking out over the precipice. Her stomach dropped, but she plunged forward anyway. "I've liked you for a really long time… all of you, even the grumpy sometimes mean parts. I mean, physically, there was always an attraction there, but you instantly pushed me away, so I sort of… compartmentalized that and just tried to be your friend, because I thought you really needed one."

"I did… still do."

She nodded. "But I each time we inched closer to one another, it made it harder for me to accept the fact that I was going to end up with someone that wasn't you. I mean, I pursued a _lot_ of guys, I mean a _lot. _We're talking-"

He interrupted her. "Alright, alright, I get it."

"And none of them were you." She swallowed, tucking her head back down again, afraid to look at his face. "Don't ever think that people can just go out and find a replacement, let alone something better."

"Thank you." He hugged her close, tilting her chin up slightly so he could reach her lips. It was a different kind of kiss for them, gentle, like plucking the strings of a harp. Mindy felt the chords resonate within her, the vibrations drawn up from the tips of her toes, singing through her.

They walked back to the house in silence, this time companionable, a weight having been lifted off Danny's shoulders.

* * *

><p>Tracing circles on his chest with the tip of her finger, Mindy frowned at the thin cotton shirt keeping her from his skin, unconsciously making a soft little whine. She didn't want to wake him, but a part of her still basked in the novelty of it all, hating every moment she spent waiting to touch him again.<p>

Her fingers traveled up to his chin, relishing the tickling sensation of his stubble against the delicate pads of her fingers. She wanted to memorize the lines of his face like this, peaceful in sleep, the ever present wrinkle between his brows smoothed out.

"That tickles." The words croaked out, still soaked in sleep, causing her to abruptly pull back, but not quickly enough. He caught her hand, pulling it back to his lips, this time pressing a gentle kiss to the pads of her fingers. "I like it."

For a minute, she didn't know how to react, simply staring into the dark depths of his eyes, irises black in the pale moonlight, an impish smile playing at his lips. She could feel him against her leg, tangled in the sheets as they were. He shifted to pull her closer, his hand slipping down between her legs.

She sucked in a surprised breath, whispering harshly at him. "Jesus, Danny, we're at your dad's house."

"We'll be quiet."

She shook her head, undermining her denial by pressing against him, her own lips seeking out the heat of his skin. Nipping at his earlobe, she whispered to him again. "I get to be on top then."

He groaned, but she captured it with her lips, withdrawing only as long as it took to shimmy off her silk shorts, encouraging him to do the same. She climbed on top of him carefully. The last thing she wanted to do was fall off the tiny bed.

Danny chuckled softly at her cautious movements, hands reaching up to bracket her waist. She reached down, putting a finger against his lips, mouthing 'quiet.' He obliged, eyes fluttering shut as she took hold of him, guiding him into her.

They went slowly, Mindy staring down at him in the moonlight, leaning back as his hands roved over her. When they stopped to palm her breasts, she slipped her own over them, brushing his knuckles as her nipples pebbled under his touch. Her lips pursed in an effort to be quiet as she rose and fell over him, resulting in a low chorus of hums.

It had never been like this before, not with him, not with anyone really. If, no when, she told Gwen about it later, she would definitely call it making love, his gentle touch coaxing her closer and closer to the edge.

She wasn't going to be able to keep quiet. In a desperate move she jerked Danny's hand away from her breast, pressing the heel of it against her mouth. As the stars exploded behind her eyes, she involuntarily sunk her teeth into the fleshy part of his palm, hearing a sharp intake of breath as he bucked beneath her one last time.

She leaned forward, stretching languidly against him, the aftermath of her pleasure making her as limp as a noodle. His hands found their way to their favorite place, slipping through the silk of her hair before traveling down her back and resting on the gentle curve of her bottom. She moved to roll off of him, but his grip tightened. "Stay."

"Danny, I'm crushing you."

He shook his head, eyes already drifting shut. "You fit perfectly."


	14. The Warmth of Your Embrace

**A/N: Another continuation of the past few chapters. I think maybe this is the last addition to that particular drabble.**

Danny stared at the ceiling as the sun rose, a bright glow painting everything a fiery shade of orange. He focused on a water stain, an amorphous blob echoing the shape of an anatomically correct heart. He'd been awake for a while, breathing shallowly, holding himself as still as possible. She was here with him, lying in the creaking twin bed, sheets tangled up in their entwined limbs.

It was still cool, the chill of the night wafting in through the open window, unrecognizable smells infiltrating his nostrils, somehow dusty and floral at the same time. The desert.

Contentment flowed through him like clear rushing river, a refreshing clarity in his mind for the first time in a very long time. The waves cresting in time with her breathing against him, the air puffing out hotly against his neck. He could see the decisions he was supposed to make, the future laid out plainly before him if only he'd have the courage to grasp at it.

Yet, it all felt incredibly precarious, tied somehow to this particular moment by gossamer threads, the passage of time frozen. He feared everything would come crashing down around him the moment the silence was broken, the moment he shifted in the tiny bed.

There had been moments like this in the past. Time and time again he'd thought he'd put the hurt behind him, worked through it and moved on. He'd so often said "I'm okay," and really truly meant it, only to be blindsided later by how false the statement rang. But it felt so incredibly genuine this time, hope blooming in his chest for the first time in years.

Mindy shifted against him, burrowing her face into the hollow of his neck like a child searching for a few more minutes of sleep, a long contented sigh escaping her lips against his skin. Her palm flat against his chest languidly traveled upwards, her fingers in search of his fluttering pulse. Finding it, she stilled. His arms tightened involuntarily around her and she let out a little mewling noise. His shallow breathing slowed completely, awe paralyzing him. He risked waking her, but he just needed her closer, impossibly close. He was accosted by the irrational desire to drown in her, to drink in the sunshine that coursed through her veins until it oozed from his very pores.

He could see it for what it was. He was no fool. It was the newness, the novelty of it all. The adrenaline rush of a new relationship, flush with possibility. This feeling wouldn't last, it couldn't… shouldn't really. It was too intense. At some point this tenuous awe would release him, and he'd be able to take a step back and evaluate this new relationship. Logically, he knew this to be the case, but his heart wouldn't stop it's erratic thumping, and his arms wouldn't let go of her.

Did they really have to leave this place? This bed? Couldn't they just stay right here forever? Happiness was so fragile. Harsh words and bottomless insecurities threatened to shatter it. That world out there was rife with hazards to his newfound contentment. She shifted against him and his stomach dropped. She was waking up.

Desperate to prolong the moment, Danny dipped down nuzzling the top of her head, the pads of his fingers tracing along the lines of her back lovingly, willing her to fall back asleep, even for fifteen minutes. She didn't comply, as usual, squirming against him as she aligned her nose with his, a lazy grin pulling at her lips.

The spell didn't break at her movement, at the creak of the mattress beneath them. The world around him didn't crumble. Her legs were still tangled with his, the smooth moisturized skin soft against him everywhere they touched, the wandering fingers of one hand idly dragging across his chest. He wondered if she could feel the skittering beat under his ribs.

His lips found hers in a slow kiss, lazily tracing the curve of her smile with his tongue before drawing her bottom lip between his own. She did the impossible and tucked herself in even closer. Could it be like this always? He was so much better like this, not being able to talk, not saying the wrong thing, not messing everything up. He could tell her how he felt with his body, his touch more reverent than any words.

The kiss continued, undemanding, until she pulled away, gazing at him sleepily, a fair bit of wonder in the depths of her brown eyes. She threaded her fingers through his hair, smoothing down the disheveled locks before returning her palm to his cheek. The stubble there tickled the sensitive flesh of her palm, but she continued the small movements. She let out a long sigh. "What now, Danny?"

For a second he was paralyzed, his diaphragm refusing to draw in another breath, fear brushing up against him with it's familiar cold touch. "Now?" The question bypassed his brain, coming from some unknown depth before he could stop it, his voice breaking slightly.

His strange response didn't elicit an irritated huff like he would have imagined, instead she snuggled closer, nodded as she yawned, her hands drifting across his body aimlessly. The fear released him, and he drew in a deep breath. "I'm not sure.. I, uh… I'm…" He swallowed, a surprising lump blocked his throat. She stared at him expectantly, and he pushed past it. "I didn't know I was broken, Min."

She shifted, drawing herself on one elbow to look down at him. Pity flashed across her face briefly before genuine concern replaced it, and he pressed forward before she could say anything. "I don't want pity, or even deserve it. I just… I just want you to know what you'd be getting… okay?"

She opened her mouth to reassure him, but couldn't find the words, suddenly feeling impossibly heartbroken for the man lying naked before her. She snapped her mouth shut and nodded once more.

He couldn't look at her while he talked, averting his gaze. His eyes settled once more on the water stain. "I always thought everything that I felt, everything that I did, was just… me. That it was somehow in my makeup to be like this. I never… I couldn't…" He sighed, regrouping. "I didn't know that it was his fault, or that it could be fixed."

"Danny-"

He shook his head, pleading with her to wait. "It doesn't excuse hurting other people. It doesn't… and I don't _want _to hurt you… ever."

She nodded, tears pooling in her eyes as she fought them back, she took a breath to speak, but he grabbed her wrist, lightly squeezing. "Wait."

She nodded.

"But I might hurt you. I don't know how many other things he's tainted for me. I don't know how long it'll be before we're arguing about something, before I let some unexpected insecurity makes me say something hurtful, do something that wounds you. You're everything I'm not, and it's not fair for you to be with someone so... damaged."

She shook her head in denial, the tears spilling over this time, unable to form words. Swallowing hard, she spoke. "Danny, stop it. I don't know who you think I am, but you've got me up on this pedestal, like I'm some porcelain urn you're afraid you're going to break. I'm not perfect, ok. I have issues too. I'm selfish sometimes. I take the easy way out when I can. I don't care about the 'big' picture sometimes. And I'm not gonna break. I'm sturdy, ok? You _know_ me. Don't push me away. Don't-"

He tore his gaze away from the ceiling, looking at her again for the first time. The sight of her tear stained cheeks tore at him, momentarily pushing away his reply. "Mindy." Her voice was a plea, hoarse. He couldn't handle her crying. He dashed away the tears with the pads of his thumbs, cradling her face as he pulled her in for another kiss. "I'm not pushing you away."

She drew in a shaky breath. "You're not?"

"No."

She was a little sheepish, her eyes darting away from him as she regained her composure. "It sure sounded like you were."

"I'm sorry."

She couldn't help but smile at his contrite expression. "Then what…?"

"I just want you to know that I never _intend _to hurt you, but this might be a rough ride. Decades of damage don't just disappear after one disgusting dinner and a soccer game. I don't even _know_ what else he fucked up for me. The mind is a mystery, Min." He brushed away a lock of hair that had fallen across her face. "I _do _know that you're the only person I can do this with. You're the only person who knows what I need. You make me want to fix things, to be a better person."

She smiled. "That goes both ways you know."

"It does?"

"Of course. You push me to be better. At my job, at relationships. You have this weird catholic-induced moral compass that helps me sometimes. I'm not perfect. I mean, I do have a banging bod and an impeccable sense of style. but there are flaws hidden deeply, and I'm talking _deeply, _within me." She laughed. "I think we need each other."

She collapsed beside him mirroring his position flat on his back. They both stared at the ceiling, her right hand creeping down between them to thread her fingers through his. "Oh, look, Danny. It's a sign." She pointed with her free hand. "A heart."

"That doesn't look like a heart."

She elbowed him ignoring his irritated grunt. "Well, maybe not a cute little cartoon heart, but it does look like a real heart." She gestured emphatically. "Look, there's the left ventricle and the ascending aorta and the left pulmonary artery. It's a heart ok, a real one."

He dragged her closer, smiling at the thought. A real one. She was a real one. _The _real one. He buried his nose in her hair, getting lost in her.

She laughed, his deep inhalations seeming comical to her, the shifting hair tickling her skin. She settled in his embrace, yawning again. "Danny, can we just… sleep in for a little while. We can switch our flight. I just want to… be like this for a little while longer."

He nodded, drawing the blanket up over them, his breaths already evening out as she settled against his chest. "As long as you like."


	15. Never Skip Dessert

**A/N: Drabble prompt from Gloriagilbertpatch on tumblr:?Give me the conversation they had over dinner post-disastrous double date. (either one of the ones they had on the show or one you've made up)**

Dessert at a Japanese restaurant was nothing to write home about. Mindy pushed around the fruity concoction on the little porcelain plate. "This shouldn't even be considered dessert."

Danny smirked, reaching across the table, his fork poised above her serving. "What are you talking about?" The fork descended, scooping up the strawberries and whipped cream.

"If something is more than fifty percent fruit, it shouldn't be labeled a dessert."

He shoveled his stolen bite into his mouth, tongue flicking out to catch the whipped cream resting on his lower lip. "Oh really."

"Yeah, a dessert has to has some substance, you know. Some gluten to fill out the flavor palate. There has to be some effort put in. I could have gone home and put strawberries and whipped cream in a bowl."

He nodded. "And it wouldn't have cost you twelve dollars." He reached over to scoop up yet another bite, but she parried his thrust.

"Exactly." Spearing a berry, she continued. "It's just like with our dates tonight."

His eyebrows shot up, eyes moving from the plate between them to her face. "How so?" Suddenly he wasn't interested in dessert any longer, his tongue feeling thick as it rested against his teeth.

"Well, Graham is just this super hot dude-"

He cut her off. "Alright, alright-"

"And, while I'm sure he would be great in the sack (the man surely knows his way around), would he really like sitting with me while I watched the Kardashian's open up their latest boutique in Florida, or while I argued with mommy bloggers on WordPress about the merits of attachment parenting? No."

Danny pretended to consider her argument, a thoughtful expression temporarily gracing his features. "But would anyone really?"

"You do."

"What?" The fork clattered against the plate in front of him, it's tines making a screechy noise that was sharp against his ear drums. "I do not."

"Yes you do. In the lounge. You always let me watch what I want, even while you complain. And even though you pretend to hate it. I know you could tell the difference between Kourtney and Khloe."

"Come on, everyone knows Khloe has a dry sense of humor and Kourtney is boring." His was grinning at her, a smug little expression that made his eyes gleam.

"Exactly." Something sweeter than whipped cream and strawberries pooled in Mindy's stomach, a thick warm honey spreading through her limbs as she talked. "And you know that I don't always want to watch reality TV. Sometimes there's a good suffragette documentary on. Can't get enough of ladies getting shit done."

"True."

"With Graham it would have been just a bunch of really hot sessions of supremely steamy sex, and eventually it would have gotten old. I need a boring old dude like you, Danny. The lack of hot sex would be an acceptable downside."

"What!" Danny's voice rose sharply, catching the attention of nearby diners. "I assure you, if you were my woman, you'd not be complaining about our sex life."

She snorted. "Ew, caveman, I wouldn't be anyone's woman, and I'm sure you think you're great in bed."

"No one's ever complained."

"Do you really think every woman you've ever been with has left you completely satisfied." She emphasized the last word, leaving no question as to her real meaning.

"I know what I know, and I know that I get things done."

"Right. I'm sure no one's ever faked it with you."

"I would know."

"Would you? Would you really, Daniel?"

"Yeah."

She nodded, finally dropping her fork to the table, her hands traveling to the edges of the table cloth, gripping the edges. "Oh, Danny, please don't stop." The sentence came out on a breathy moan, a little catch in her voice on the last syllable.

Danny was confused, watching her eyes drift shut and her lips part. "I'm not doing anything…"

Her head dropped back, exposing the smooth column of her throat as she began to inhale short little pants. Danny watched her chest rise and fall in shuddering rhythm. She gasped before continuing her strange monologue. "Right…. there…"

Her increasingly obvious sexual moans were beginning to attract the attention of their fellow diners and Danny felt the heat travelling to his cheeks as the blood began to pump through his veins. "Stop it, Mindy."

She ignored him, of course, slipping further down in her chair, thrashing her head about, the curtain of her hair flipping across her face. Her panting morphed into sharp moans, an imitation of whatever pornographic film she'd recently seen.

Danny shifted uncomfortably in his chair, reacting to the scene in front of him in a decidedly primal way. He dropped his napkin in his lap to hide the evidence of his arousal. "We're in a public place. I swear to God, I'll leave you here if you don't stop."

Mindy didn't change her position, merely increasing the volume of her grunts and moans as she opened one eye to peek at him. She sped up her vocal expressions, banging her knee against the table for emphasis when she let out a particularly loud yell. "Oh yeah, Danny. Only for you."

Suddenly, her obscene noises crescendoed in a sharp yell, her whole body tensing as she arched forward. Slamming her palms down on the table she ended her performance with a long sigh before collapsing into the chair.

She was breathing hard, a fine sheen of perspiration glowing along her brow as she looked at him, her fake climax having a very real effect on her. She smiled at Danny's near apoplectic expression. "Sound familiar, Daniel?"

He snatched the napkin from his lap and threw it on the table. "Absolutely not." Darting up from the chair he grabbed her wrists, dragging her to her feet. "If it were me, Mindy, you wouldn't be able to form words right now."

The air crackled, static electricity jumping between them, little currents zipping along any inch of exposed skin. Mindy's looked up at him, her tongue darting out to tracing along her bottom lip, eyes glazed over. "Prove it."

That was all it took. Danny tossed a wad of cash on the table and dragged Mindy after him, everything about the entire night completely forgotten, the only thing on his mind the moans she'd theatrically sounded out. Prove it? Hell yes he would prove it, and then maybe he'd prove it again.


	16. Show Me

**A/N: Drabble I wrote on tumblr after DATC... I almost forgot to put it on here. oops :P...**

She hadn't spoken to him all day, her silence louder than any diatribe she could have screamed in his direction. He deserved it, of course; his foot had gone so far in his mouth this time, he wasn't sure anything short of surgery could remove it. Squinting, he tried to concentrate on the paperwork in front of him.

Useless. The file dropped back down to the desk with a flutter. If you had asked him six months ago about Mindy giving him the silent treatment, he would have laughed heartily in your face, and said, "From your mouth to God's ears, my friend."

But she hadn't deigned to speak to him all day, giving him the cold shoulder in their bed the night before, and he could feel the irritation swelling inside of him, pressure exerting itself from the inside out as he went about his day. All over a silly argument. Well… It had been silly to begin with, but it had quickly devolved into especially sharp barbs. That was their thing though, they were so good at finding the soft spots.

He'd never quite figured out how to bridge the chasm he sometimes created with his words; finding middle ground in physical intimacy had always worked before, but lately, softly breathed words of apology against the back of her neck only produced a long suffering sigh.

His knee was shaking, bouncing up and down as he fidgeted at his desk. The pressure continued to increase, almost like anticipation, only lacking whatever positivity one normally felt when waiting for something.

He didn't know how to tell her that his behavior came from a place of love, or more accurately from a place of fear for her. Yes, he was bossy, more so now than ever before, and the clipped instructions seemed to fall from him lips these days without any forethought. And logically he knew that she was an OB too, that she knew all the same things he did, but it didn't stop him from stacking parenting books on her side of the bed, or surreptitiously switching out sugar coated snacks for granola based trail mixes.

He should have told her that when he'd found out about the baby it was like someone had reached inside of him and gently extracted his heart before handing it directly to her. That every time she stumbled because of a crack in the sidewalk, sickening cold fear shot through him involuntarily. That beside the love he'd freely chosen for her now resided a visceral gut wrenching love that he had absolutely no control over.

Of course, he hadn't said a single thing.

And their latest argument hadn't been over any particular action, but rather _every _damn thing. She'd snapped last night, whirling on him in the middle of the kitchen, refrigerator standing wide open behind her, a unsettlingly wild look in her eyes.

"Where is the leftover cheese dip, Daniel?"

She knew where it was, presumably, because she stomped angrily over to the trash can, toeing the lever expertly. The now empty container was mixed among the daily detritus of their life. "Are you KIDDING me?! I just bought that!"

He'd rolled his eyes, big mistake, and walked past her to the fridge, pulling out a tiny container of yogurt. "This is better for you, and you didn't buy that, you stole it out of the fridge in the break room. It had Morgan's name on it."

She snatched the yogurt from his outstretched hand and sent it sailing into the trash can. "Stop it, right now."

"What?"

"You know what."

He feigned ignorance, shrugging as he grabbed another yogurt for himself. Leaning against the counter, he gave the little cup more attention than it deserved, slowly dipping the spoon down into the creamy custard.

"First my heels disappear-"

"You tripped on the subway, nearly broke your neck."

She hadn't paused for his comment. "Then you hid the stopper to the bathtub-"

"Long baths are dangerous for pregnant women."

"Then you sent back my dessert when we went out last week-"

"You ordered tiramisu, Mindy. TIRAMISU! Raw eggs, caffeine, need I say more?"

"DAMN IT! I'M NOT AN IDIOT, DANNY. I KNOW EVERYTHING YOU KNOW! It was for Tamra. She asked me to get it when she heard we were going to _Venezia's_." She blew out a long angry breath, storming out of the room.

He followed close behind, knowing that she wasn't done. Leaving the room only meant she wanted her angrily hurled words to have something different to echo off of.

"You won't even let me know the sex of the baby."

"I don't know either! Besides, you said you didn't want to know, you made me sign an oath. YOU HAD MORGAN NOTARIZE IT."

She scoffed at him. "He's not even a notary public, Danny. He stamped it with an arcade pass his cousin stole from some place on Coney Island. I'm allowed to change my mind!"

"No, look, you may THINK you know what you want, but then you'll change your mind AGAIN and get mad about it later. I know what's best."

Her mouth dropped open, forming a little 'o' of indignation. "You pompous ass!" She strode determinedly up to him, her protruding belly bumping up against his belt buckle. "You've been acting like this for weeks. I'm not a child!"

"Maybe you should stop acting like one, Mindy."

"Name one thing, besides the food, which you know as well as I isn't as bad as you make it seem, that I've done to put myself in danger. One thing, Daniel."

He opened his mouth, expecting quick rejoinder, but nothing came.

"A-ha! Nothing!"

"It's _only _because I've prevented it."

She let out a strangled scream of frustration, one hand balling into a fist at her side as she resisted the urge to smack him. "I wouldn't do anything that might put my child in jeopardy! How could you think like that?"

There was a sheen of tears in her eyes, but he didn't mistake it for sadness. It was the result of a flood of endorphins rushing through her veins with each pound of her heart. The chemical just needed a release of some sort, and since she'd promised to consciously try to reduce the number of times she resorted to slapping, it often found its way out in tears.

He knew he was wrong, that her pregnancy scared him an unreasonable amount. It's just there were so many things utterly out of his control, too many articles about complications sitting in the right drawer of his desk, too many damn apple pie wrappers in the right drawer of Mindy's. He found himself grasping at straws, struggling to find things he could monitor.

Before he could open his mouth to apologize, the words forming undoubtedly insufficient sentences, she shook her head, taking a step away from him. "Don't talk to me."

* * *

><p>He'd given her time to herself, letting her relax into her nightly bedtime rituals, foolishly hoping that by the time he slipped into bed with her, she'd have warmed back up to him. The slight shifting of the mattress as she scooted away told him he was very very wrong.<p>

And now he was positively jonesing for a word from her. Even an angry shriek or two would have been welcome, but she'd studiously avoided him all day, even turning her head toward reception as she walked by his office.

He watched the clock on the wall, the hand inching closer and closer to five. He'd been quite industrious on his lunch hour, putting the final touches on the apology he had waiting at home for her. It was always easier to show her how sorry he was than to tell her.

He heard Morgan leave, then Tamra, and he figured it was time to collect the angry yet lovely pregnant woman sitting in her office. He stood in her doorway for a full minute before gathering the wherewithal to say her name. It came out in an embarrassing croak. "Min?"

Her eyes darted up, relief washing over him at the sight. At least he knew he hadn't reached the top tier of her silent treatment. Her "dead to me" tier was notoriously impossible to get out of. Still, she didn't open her mouth as she collected her things, struggling to shrug into her polka dot pea coat.

Wordlessly, Danny stepped forward, helping her with the garment. She followed him to the elevator, a bubble of tension bursting in his chest when she took hold of his hand. He hated fighting with her. An outsider would be surprised to find out just how much he detested it, considering the frequency of their rows, but it always inspired undue anxiety, an evil little voice telling him that she would tire of it and leave him one day.

But her hand ensconced safely in his was enough to banish this errant thought, the tension he'd carried in his shoulders all day beginning to fall away. "I'm sorry, Mindy."

She merely stared ahead at the elevator doors, and he let her be, for now. There was time to talk once they got home, once she was softened by his real apology.

She knew something was different the moment they walked across the threshold, soft strains of music was filtering out into the living room, a light glowing underneath the door of the guest bedroom.

Mindy tossed her coat and bag on the couch, eyeing Danny suspiciously as he dragged her toward the source of the music. The closer they got, the more distinct the sound became, tinkling notes of _Rockabye Baby_ squeezing between the door and the frame.

"The nursery?"

He nodded, hoping she wouldn't be too irritated that he'd taken it upon himself. The door swung open smoothly, well oiled hinges utterly squeakless, to reveal a fully furnished and fully decorated nursery.

Pink, everywhere, fluffy pink pillows, pink bows attached to a pristine white crib, all manner of toys scattered across every available surface. Eyes wide as saucers, Mindy traversed the room, fingers brushing against each new thing she came across, stopping with a curious expression on her face when she found the one thing in the room that wasn't pink. A little blue baseball cap that said "Daddy's Lil' Slugger" on it. She held it close to her, turning to danny, for the first time all day wordless for an entirely different reason.

He took it as his cue to close the space between them. "I figured, just because she's a girl doesn't mean she can't play baseball, right?" Swallowing, he geared up to give the speech he'd been rehearsing all day in his head. "I'm sorry, I'm an ass. I know you can take care of yourself. I know you're not a child. It's just... " He faltered, emotion catching in his chest unexpectedly. "I die a thousand deaths a day, Mindy, thinking of things that could go wrong… and I don't know how to deal with that, clearly."

She lifted herself up on her toes, arms threading around his neck as her lips crashed down on his. He could feel the wet trails of tears on her cheeks against his own face she she kissed him. Sniffing, she pulled back. "I worry too."

"I know, and I promise to back off."

She nodded, turning to look around at the room one more time. "This is sickeningly pink, Danny."

Laughing, he pulled her back to him, hands resting gently on her stomach. "I have receipts."

"Good."


	17. Say the Right Thing

Two weeks is nothing. It's a drop of rain in the ocean, a single grain of sand in the Saharan desert. It's nothing. Really… At least that's what Danny tells himself when he slips into bed for the third night in a row and she's already asleep. Except she's not asleep. She's faking. He can tell by the delicate way she's breathing, the distinct absence of her normally soft snoring. The ruse sets his stomach to churning as he curls up behind her, threading his arms through hers. She's soft and warm, and he feels like an animal, but he can't help but be hopelessly turned on as his hands slip against the heated silk of her pajamas.

But she clearly isn't interested in the persistent proof of his desire, and he shifts so he's not poking her in the back like an overeager teenage boy. Her breaths remain even, abdomen rising and fallen as she draws in the silent breaths. She doesn't stir when he presses a gentle kiss to the back of her neck.

He's a doctor, and he knows that pregnancy hormones can play havoc with a woman's sex drive, and he would love to voice his understanding, if she'd only give him the opportunity, but she persists in this silent fakery. That's what worries him the most.

It's not like she's ever been shy (or even quiet really) about telling him when and where she prefers sex. She's dragged him into some of the most indecent places, and god forgive him, he's always succumbed with only the faintest protests, reveling in the feel of her mouth against his, her hands flitting around his body like she can't decide what she wants to feel the most. Her eagerness makes him feel like he's the only person in the world. That he's needed... wanted.

And even the times when she truly wasn't in the mood, she'd never withheld affection, always implying that they'd get to those other things later, when she wasn't so full of chinese food, or when she didn't feel dead on her feet. Innumerable times they've both been too exhausted to do much more than fall asleep sprawled across the expansive bed, legs twisted together, her head resting on his chest as they drift out of consciousness.

This dry spell is different though. Every time she shifts away from him silently, it feels like a rejection, and he doesn't know how to deal. He isn't some sex maniac, not really, but God, this quiet rejection was making his head spin, the anxiety of it all getting mixed up in sexual frustration. He's never been one for talking things out though, and he doesn't know what to say anyway. "You don't want me?" sounds pathetic when the words ring in his head, and even "What's wrong?" seems entirely too inadequate… so he let's it ride, falling asleep knowing without a doubt that she's wide awake and ignoring him.

This goes on until he's about to snap. He wonders how he made it through the loneliness of his single days, with what seems to be a raging sex drive. But it isn't that really. When he was alone, it was easy to knock back two fingers of scotch and watch a baseball documentary until he fell asleep on the couch. Even if he wanted sex then, he was able to push it to the back of his mind until the opportunity presented itself. This is different. He's painfully aroused as soon as he walks through the door, her perfume floating on the air, and when he slips into bed next to her it's all he can do not to whimper out in 's almost like it was in that short period of time after he realized he had feelings for her, but was too afraid to act on them. The sensation is so familiar that at least once a day his cheeks flame with the memory his frequent confessions to Father Frances.

So when he walks through the door at the end of a rather trying day, and the atmosphere in their apartment is different, a musky perfume floating on the air, the scent of candles mingling in his nose, his heart picks up speed, eagerly pumping blood to his most traitorous parts. And then he hears her, calling out from the bedroom. She uses her come-hither voice, triggering a pavlovian response as his feet carry him toward their bedroom.

But when he steps through the door, the sight there sends a surge of hysteria through him, and he knows he must be dreaming. The skintight gold printed spandex stretches across her curves, leaving nothing to the imagination, and her hair and makeup are straight out of his sixteen year old Staten Island spank-bank, right down to the doorknocker earrings his next door neighbor used to wear. There's nothing remotely Mindy-like about what he's seeing and he knows he's having some sort of fantasy, probably asleep in the on-call room with an embarrassingly hard dick.

So he laughs at the ridiculousness in front of him, at the desperation he feels in his chest, at the disappointment flooding his limbs. He laughs, the sound spilling out with the last of his sanity, and it only takes him a second to realize what a monumental mistake laughing is.

"Are you _laughing_ at me?"

Her face falls, and hurt pinches at the corners of her mouth. He can see the sheen of tears in her eyes in the brief moment she makes eye contact with him, and it shreds his insides. His mouth runs a million miles an hour, assuring her he wasn't laughing at her, not really, that he's just so… pent up? Dear god, it's a mess and he doesn't know if it's even possible to backpedal far enough until things are the way they're supposed to be, but he keeps trying, and his words dig the hole deeper and deeper, until finally she snaps.

In a flash, she's gone, slipping into the bathroom and into her comfy pink gown. She's called it the least sexy thing she owns, but he secretly love the way the color looks against her skin, the way it feels against his hands as he slips his fingers beneath the hem. He aches for her, but doesn't know how to counter the hurt anger he feels radiating from her. He's still fumbling with his words, quietly following her around their bedroom like lost child, until finally she has the wherewithal to cut him off.

"I care what I look like, and it doesn't help that I'm dating someone so much better looking than me."

His world stops, ambient sound fading away until all he can hear is his heart beating. He's always known she carries around these little insecurities about the way she looks, and they've always perplexed him, but he's never entertained the idea that _he _made her insecure. It's the most preposterous notion he's ever heard. If he lived a thousand years, he still wouldn't find a way to be worthy of her. He doesn't feel like he's ever deserved her, and the notion that somehow the opposite is true… He can't quite process it.

"What?"

She takes his hesitance for agreement, and burrows down into the covers, her back to him. "Ugh, I just want to sleep… Maybe in my dreams I'll be skinny."

He has no words. It's true that he spends a good portion of his day collecting comebacks to counter Mindy's more ridiculous assertions, that he sometimes writes down little factoids about her favorite celebrities to back his own arguments. She always keeps him on his toes, and he relishes their little disagreements but this? This is new territory, and he's clueless.

He kneels beside the bed, his palm resting on the curve of her spine. She's curled up, facing away from him, a position he's all too familiar with lately. His head drops down in frustration, mind still reeling with this new information. He doesn't know what to do with it, and seeing her so vulnerable makes him feel weak. He's supposed to protect her from hurtful things, but she's doing this to herself.

He's told her, time and time again that's she's beautiful, but each vocalization just earns him a glare, and he gets the distinct feeling that she thinks he's lying. Lately his reassurances seem to make everything worse, and he feels like he's grasping blindly at straws.

He still wants her, more than anything, but he knows they've passed the point where sex makes everything better. He slowly walks around the bed, blowing the candles out, before turning off her bedside lamp. It only takes him a couple minutes to turn off the rest of the lights. As usual she's left every single fixture in the apartment blazing, but the annoyance he normally feels barely even registers.

By the time he changes out of Jeremy's ridiculous pajamas and slips into bed with her, she's feigning sleep once again, her even breathing occasionally catching as she silently cries. He's not sure how he'll be received, but he can't help himself, drawing her into his arms. She doesn't fight it, settling against him with a sigh. Tears fall silently against his soft cotton tee, and again the helplessness washes over him.

"I love you, Mindy." He holds her a little tighter, waiting for a response.

Finally, he hears her quiet answer, the words mumbled into his chest. "I know." She doesn't sound reassured though, and Danny spends the rest of the night holding her as she sleeps. He stares at the ceiling like it's a whiteboard, making lists and lists of all the things he loves about her. He looks at it like a mathematical equation, hoping to find the one thing that will buoy her confidence, but he can't find anything he hasn't said dozens of times. He's never felt more at sea than at this very moment. It's fucking terrifying.


	18. You Do Something To Me

**A/N: Tumblr prompt: In wedding crushers, Danny is the one to take Mindy to the wedding.**

"Oh my god, your palms are so sweaty! This is silk, Danny!"

His palms aren't normally sweaty, in spite of the near constant ribbing everyone at the office gives him. It's just that it's unusually warm on the dance floor and Mindy is pressed up against him like a vine wrapped around a tree. He pulls away, leaving one rather large yet faint handprint on the small of her back. "I told you I didn't want to dance."

He whirls away, leaving her alone on the swarmed dance floor, drunken couples shuffling without rhythm.

"Jeez, drama queen, I was just messing with you. Get your ass back out here." For some reason she's whispering, like she doesn't want to disturb the romantic atmosphere around. "Josh can_not_ see me abandoned out here with all of these disgusting heart-eyes-emoji people."

Her hand is wrapped around his wrist, jerking him back to her with surprising strength as the song continues to play. He gives in, enjoying the feel of her head laying on his shoulder as they sway. The scowl remains on his face. It's a defense mechanism of sorts. He won't give her the satisfaction of an easy smile when she just using him as a buffer for Josh. "Why did you even come to this douche's wedding?"

"If I hadn't come, he would think it's because I'm still in love with him!" She whispers harshly in his ear.

He shifts, resting his chin on top of her crown, torturing himself a little. She isn't wearing heels, and the height difference is exactly the same as when Amy had peered so curiously at them. He's tried to push away the memory of holding her close, the faint whiff of his own shampoo that had wafted to his nose as she ducked under his arm, but here he is again, tamping down the urge to say and do things he knows would be a bad idea.

"He wouldn't have thought that. You've been engaged since then."

"He doesn't know that."

Her response receives a noncommittal grunt from Danny, and they lapse into silence swaying to the dulcet tones of Ella Fitzgerald lulling them into a hypnotic state.

Mindy stiffens in his arms, eyes wide as they peek over Danny's shoulder. She hisses at him. "Kiss me!"

.

He looks down at her, opening his mouth to protest when she wraps her fingers around the back of his neck, pulling his face down to hers. Her lips are soft against his, and he can taste her lipstick as she eagerly devours him. The tips of his fingers slip down to her ass, not caring about her earlier complaints as he squeezes at her gently.

He doesn't know what brought on this sudden amorousness, but he isn't one to question his good fortune. His tongue parts the seam of her lips, delving into the warm slipperiness just as an unexpected hand drops down on his shoulder.

"Can I cut in?"

Josh's voice is like nails on a chalkboard to Danny, sending a disproportionate wave of rage through him before his jaw tenses, pushing it all back down again.

"Oh, Josh, I didn't see you there."

The cheer in Mindy's voice is forced, cluing Danny into what really prompted her surprise attack. The blond sports attorney smiles at them, the expression souring Danny's mood. The prick looks like he just discovered electricity, eureka written all over his face. "Danny? I didn't realize it was you. Should have known though, right?"

"Should have known?" Mindy and Danny say this in unison, matching confused expressions pointed at Josh, Mindy's perhaps a little more genuine.

Josh eyes Danny as though he's expecting to be backed up. "Come on, this guy? He's been into you since I first met him, and you were always 'Danny this, Danny that.'" Josh rocks on his heels a little, tucking his thumbs behind his suspenders. "Called it."

Mindy stares at him, a little bit slack jawed, apparently unsure of what to say. Danny isn't used to her being speechless, and he jumps in, stammering a little through his deception. "Um, sure, yeah. I've been obsessed with her for years." He uses her terminology. He honestly can't recall the last time she accused him of this, but he figures she'll play along.

It takes her a few more seconds to catch up, eyes darting between the two men in front of her, but she finally speaks. "Right! For years. I'm pretty sure he's the one who kept stealing my underwear at the gym."

Her lie takes Danny out of the moment. "What!" He's appalled, mouth hanging open in shock. "You've never even been to a gym."

"Relax, Danny. It's ok if Josh knows about your panty fetish. He's done way worse."

"IT'S NOT A FETISH!"

Josh clears his throat, obviously uncomfortable at losing their attention, but Mindy doesn't catch the social cue, instead laying her hand on Danny's arm reassuringly. "Sure, babe, it's not a fetish, it's _totally normal_."

Danny lets out an inarticulate grumble, struggling not to give away the ruse. She can see that her fabrication is getting him all riled up, and lifts up on her tiptoes to plant a consoling kiss on his cheek. It shouldn't have the effect that it does, but the wind is suddenly gone from Danny's sails, and he's back to playing her game.

"I'm not sure I should let her dance with you, Josh. Who knows what else this one's going to tell you if this is what she says when I'm standing right here."

"Let me? I'm a twenty-five year old woman. That's the age of consent in many countries, Danny."

"What? You're not… wait… the age of consent? He's not asking to have sex with you Mindy."

"Well, if he were, you'd have no say."

"_My_ girlfriend isn't having sex with her ex at HIS WEDDING."

Danny turns to pin Josh with a withering glare, but finds the dance floor is empty beside them, an interested group of observers a few feet away giving the couple some strange looks. He turns to leave before he says anything else mortifying, but once again Mindy's tugging at his jacket sleeve.

He tries to shake her off, but is unsuccessful. She's got an iron grip on the expensive material, and he whirls around to face her. "Ok, now we have to pretend we made up and kiss one more time before we leave. Then Operation Make-Your-Ex-Realize-You're-a-Total-Babe-With-Legit-Prospects will have been a success."

He opens his mouth to object, but she's already winding her arms around his neck, pressing her lips against his neck in a decidedly inappropriate lascivious manner. Danny forgets where they are for a second, groaning as she peppers little kisses against the column of his throat. She's at his ear when he hears her chipper voice again. "Now, kiss me dramatically for the close…"

He obeys without thinking, hauling her up his chest, the silk of her dress sliding against the buttons of his shirt as his lips find her own. He does kiss her this time, instead of passively accepting her advances like before, his hands roving down across her body in exploration. He thinks he hears a little whimper in the back of her throat, and before she can say a thing he's dragging her off the dance floor and toward the door.

The cold night air hits them unexpectedly, and Mindy abruptly pulls away from him, dropping the girlfriend act as soon as the other wedding guests are out of sight. "You know, for someone who's such a bad liar, you're a really good actor."

Danny is still panting a little from his exertions, the sweat cooling on his forehead leaving goosebumps on his skin. She's not even looking at him, scrolling through her text messages as she compliments his skills of deceit. He wants to reach out and drag her back to him, make out with her in the cold light of the street lamp before hauling her to his car for other unspeakable things.

"I'll, uh… go see where the valet parked the car."

She nods without looking up. Danny walks away from her slowly, feeling an indescribable sensation of emptiness. He shouldn't have told her Richie had bailed on him. Spending the night alone organizing his sports memorabilia would have been a better alternative than engaging in this little fantasy. Now he knows what she tastes like, and he really is a terrible liar. He doesn't believe it for a second when he tells himself he'll soon forget.


	19. Thai Food & Four Legged Specters

**A/N: I was trying to write the next chapter of Methods of Research, and hitting a brick wall of writer's block, so I went on tumblr and found a cute prompt. From watingagainwhatt's prompt on tumblr: ****_Can someone do a funny horror fic of Danny and Mindy and their kids at the brownstone home, which was a pet cemetery, with haunted animals scaring them. _All comments and feedback is greatly appreciated.**

The moment he gets home he knows something is different. The house is a lot quieter than usual. There's no TV blaring from the family room, no music drifting down the staircase from the second floor. Mindy isn't arguing with a five year old about the whether ice cream is a viable dinner option. It's just eerily silent, and Danny feels his heart thumping unsteadily in his chest as he begins to worry.

"Mindy?"

There's no answer. He hangs his coat on the hook by the door, shaking it briefly to dislodge the raindrops settled on it's shoulders before dropping his bag in a heap by two pairs of Muddy rainboots. A little line forms between his eyebrows as he stares down at the mess. Mud is streaked across the hardwood floor at the entrance of their home. Mindy is a disaster as a housekeeper, but she usually stops at leaving her clothes scattered all over their house. Even _she _wrinkles her nose at the sight of mud in the house. The scene is disquieting.

He checks all of the rooms on the first floor, growing more and more alarmed. He'd texted Mindy not more than thirty minutes ago, letting her know he was done at the hospital, and she'd responded quickly, asking him to pick up Thai for dinner. He sits the takeout containers down on the counter.

Thinking the mud is a clue, he peeks out the tall windows into the backyard, and sure enough there's a trench dug around the bottom of their solitary tree, shovel abandoned in the wet grass. It's starting to come down pretty heavy, sheets of rain billowing against the side of the brownstone. He can't think of any reason Mindy or anyone else would be digging holes in the back yard.

"Mindy? Andy?"

This time he yells louder, his voice echoing against the high ceilings as he rounds the bottom of the stairs. Taking them two at a time, he reaches the second floor in a just a couple seconds, checking Andy's room first. The kid has his mother's propensity for mess and there are toys strewn about, books lying open here and there, but no precocious five year old in sight. "Andrew Castellano-Lahiri." Danny is getting a little worked up, spinning on his heel and bounding across the hall to the master bedroom.

The door doesn't budge when he pushes against it, handle only turning halfway before stopping abruptly. Locked. "Mindy! What the hell is going on?"

Then he hears it, the muffled thump of stocking clad feet running across the floor. The lock flips, doorknob vibrating in his hand with the force of it, and he hears the pitter patter of those same sock clad feet running back from the direction they came.

He barely has the door open before he hears Mindy from the bed. "Danny, get in here quick, and lock the door behind you."

She's got the blankets up over her head, and Danny can see his son's form nestled between her legs. For a second he wonders if she's lost her mind, but he quickly discards the notion, knowing she may be crazy about a lot of things, but the safety of their child isn't one of them.

He does as instructed, swallowing hard as he hurries to the bed. "Is there someone in the house?" He's whispering, fear sending a cold chill up his spine. It settles at the base of his neck and won't let go.

She flips the blanket over her head, opening her mouth to answer, but Andy springs from her lap into Danny's chest, locking his little arms around his father's neck. "Dad, this place is haunted."

And just like that, the fear rushes out of him in a long sigh. "Are you kidding me, Mindy? Haunted?"

She pulls up close to him, eyes still wide with fright. "Look, I'm not crazy, okay? Haven't you noticed the weird things that go on around here?"

He sighs. "We've lived here for four years. There's nothing weird."

"Every time I use the electric can opener I feel like something's watching me. It's why I never cook."

"You never cook because you hate it."

"And haven't you ever heard the mysterious sounds coming from the bathroom late at night. Lapping noises, Danny, coming from the toilet. No matter how many times I put the lid down, when I get up in the morning it's back up."

"That's because you're the last person to get up."

She shakes her head. "Have you forgotten what the realtor said?"

Danny frowns. It's been so long since he bought the place. Sure, it was kind of a shambles back then, but it had a good skeleton, and a lot of original fixtures. The place was a steal. He can't recall what Mindy might be referring to. "Wha-"

She interrupts him. "There's a CEMETERY in the backyard. How could you have forgotten that?"

Andy finally loosens his grip on Danny's neck and stares up at him with a pair of frightened brown eyes. "A cemetery?"

"No, no… no… it's not a cemetery… sure there are a few… final resting places of family pets back there, but that's normal. It's not a cemetery."

Andy shakes his head. "Tell that to Mr. Tibbles."

Mindy and Andy are both staring at him with identical expressions of horror on their faces, eyes wide as saucers. The conviction in their features is a little startling, and he begins to lose some of his incredulousness. "Mr. Tibbles?"

They nod in unison. "I _saw _him, sitting on the kitchen counter, meowing forlornly before _disappearing _before my very eyes. His name tag said Mr. Tibbles."

Her story is chipping away at his skepticism, a sheen of sweat popping up across his brown. "Come on, Min… that's…" He want's to say that it's ridiculous, but her tendency toward dramatics has never included hallucinations.

She continues with her story as if he didn't speak. "And, then about ten minutes later I look outside and there he is again, sitting under the tree in the backyard. And, Danny, I could still hear him meowing, even though it was raining and I was inside the house."

"Couldn't it have been, you know, a _real_ cat?" The question is desperate, and he's ignoring all of the other things that's she's saying, but damn it, he doesn't believe in this junk.

"No, we went out to check on it, just in case. I wouldn't want it out in the storm like that, and when I got out there it was gone, but there was freshly turned dirt where it had been sitting."

Danny recalls seeing the shovel. "You dug something up?"

She nods, and Andy jumps in. "Mr. Tibbles!"

"What?" Danny is horrified at the thought of finding a dead animal in the backyard. He could only imagine how traumatizing it could be for a young child. "Mindy, come on!"

"It's a box, Danny, and it says 'Mr. Tibbles' across the front. We didn't open it." She's clutching at him know, her knuckles white tension, and even he can admit this whole thing is a little too spooky for comfort. He's just about to suggest they get out of the house and go visit his mother for the night when she jumps in and says, "We're gonna wait for Father Michael."

"FATHER MICHAEL?!" He stands up, hauling Andy out of the bed with him. For a split second he marvels at how big his son is, almost too big carry around like this. It's not enough to distract him from Mindy's ludicrous statement. "You did _not_ call Father Michael."

"I didn't… I texted him, and asked if he could come over and do an exorcism."

"Mindy, that's insane, even for you. The catholic church doesn't even do exorcisms on people anymore. What makes you think they're gonna exorcise a cat ghost from our house?"

The doorbell rings just as the muscle on the side of his jaw is beginning to tic, and Mindy darts out of the bed, running down the stairs at breakneck speed to answer the door. Danny joins her, Andy gripping his hand as he stands sheepishly in the foyer. "I'm so sorry about this, Father.. she's got it in her head-"

"Nonsense, Daniel. Give me an hour and I'll have your domicile free from any and all four legged phantasms."

Danny's mouth drops open as he watches the priest make himself at home, hanging his coat on the hook and wandering into the kitchen. "Ooh, Thai, mind if I stay for dinner? Channelling the power of Christ to compel spirits back into the afterlife works up quite a hunger."

He winks at Danny. HE WINKS, and suddenly Danny realizes how foolish he'd been only minutes before. Their house is _not _haunted, and Father Michael, as usual, will do anything for a free meal.

True to the priest's word, an hour later they're all sitting around the dinner table, plates heaped with takeout, Danny surreptitiously crossing himself at the mention of Mr. Tibbles.


	20. Rocks Baby

"Yeah man, she's not gonna let you _touch_ her with hot rocks."

Mindy's stream of undoubtedly clever and crushing comebacks came to a sudden and surprising halt. The sound of Danny's gravelly voice echoing in the small space struck her momentarily speechless. She turned away from Brendan, focusing instead on her short colleague. Daniel Castellano was taking her side in an argument? As weird as it was, having him in her corner both literally and figuratively was deeply satisfying. It was so much nicer than screeching at him as he walked away, blockading himself in his office. Suddenly she felt like one of the cool kids on the playground, making faces at the brat whose mom didn't approve of refined sugar.

Danny looked like he'd just swallowed a bug, the snarled expression on his face the same he always wore when interacting with Brendan. But... there was something different about it this time. He looked... constipated? No, that wasn't right. Maybe it was just the way the flourescent lights were hitting the panes of his face… Who the hell was she kidding? The handsome jerk even looked good in terrible lighting.

Mindy barely even registered the rest of the conversation, the midwife's words like so much muffled nonsense echoing off the walls of the elevator. She could feel Danny beside her, all twitchy and defensive, heat rolling off of him in waves as he muttered something about geology being for hacks.

The two idiots were l going back and forth about rocks and pebbles and stones. They wouldn't shut the hell up, and she needed a minute to process what was happening. Was Danny cock-blocking her? Was that even what it was called?

She said something to end this pointless debating, barely even registering her actual comment before _both _of them were correcting her.

"Um, Mindy, no…"

"Actually…"

Damn it. She already spent the biggest part of her day convincing Danny and every other male doctor that she met of her mental acuity, and now she had to have in depth knowledge of fucking rocks. Her head started to swim. The elevator was too crowded. Danny was like a furnace beside her, and Brendan's steady gaze was beginning to unnerve her. It was all too much suddenly.

She whirled on Brendan. "I am not an expert in sediment and geology okay?" Those were the only rock related things she could think of. "I can't do that _in addition _to being an _expert_ on reproduction and women's health. I can't learn dirt jargon and rap music and DELIVER BABIES AT THE SAME TIME!"

Danny patted her awkwardly, winding his arm around her shoulder. He was stiff and unsure of himself, punctuating his defense of her stance on rock nomenclature with the palm of his sweaty hand. Mindy cut him a sideways glance, imbuing it with as much of a what-the-hell expression as she could. He quickly snapped back to himself and pulled away. Or rather, bounced away, rocking on his heels slightly, recoiling as though their bodies were repelling magnets. Unfortunately the wall impeded his escape, and he had to brace himself against the faux wood paneling. He was being uncharacteristically clumsy, embarrassment flushing the skin of his neck.

Deslaurier's dulcet tone broke into her reverie, interrupting the manic stream of questions. "Well, Mindy, let me know when your stress gives you ulcers. I have a great herbal remedy I'm sure would be helpful."

"Son of a - " She felt her stomach heave and doubled over, pressing her fingers to her lips in prayer that she wouldn't actually hurl.

The blessed ding of the elevator sounded out and Brendan was through the doors in a shot, evidently deciding that she wasn't worth the trouble today. She expected Danny to disappear as well, but he didn't. Instead she felt his fingers, a little clammy, sweep across the back of her neck, holding back her hair in case she actually did lose her lunch. He didn't seem all that concerned that his italian leather loafers were in the direct line of fire.

Crisis averted, she straightened, giving him a strange look from beneath her eyelashes. This wasn't Danny-like at all. He should have been telling her to 'suck it up,' and maybe reminding her that people starved to death during the dust bowl, and that stress barfs were for selfish people or some other nonsense. But he was just staring at her, eyes darting from her eyes to her lips and back. "Let's get you out of here."

She complied, letting him take her by the elbow and lead her out into the lobby. They stopped, and Mindy took a deep breath of the blessedly cool air. Danny shoved his hands back in his pockets, rocking on his heels once again. "You're okay now?"

She nodded, somewhat speechless. Who the hell was this?

He flipped the collar of his coat up, hands shoving down into his pockets as he hunched his shoulders over. "Ok, well… I'm gonna go…"

He spun on his heel, disappearing into the crisp New York air before she could gather her thoughts, the command to follow him only reaching her brain after he vanished from sight. She dragged her gloves from her pocket and dashed past the glass doors after him.

She caught him before he reached the end of the block, panting breathlessly. "Hey, wait up, weirdo."

He paused. Looking back at her hesitantly, he shoved his hands even deeper down in the pockets of his coat. Something flashed across his eyes, a momentary softness that nearly had Mindy tripping over her own two feet as she approached him, but it was gone before she could define it.

Expression shuttered, his gaze skittered from from her head to the tips of her toes, stuttering briefly as though he didn't know where to rest his eyes. Clearing his throat, he said, "Those shoes are impractical."

His gruff statement was an invitation to an argument, but Mindy was too distracted to take the bait. They walked along in silence for a few minutes, Danny shortening his strides to make up for her slow progress. Mindy kept replaying the scene with Brendan. "What the hell was that back there in the elevator?"

Danny shrugged, stepping down off the curb to cross the street. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend?"

His palm was flat on the small of her back, eyes darting back and forth as he watched traffic. It was the first time she'd ever noticed this particular habit, and she could feel the heat from his palm shiver all the way up her spine even through the wool of her coat.

"Um... Excuse me. We're not enemies." This statement set the corner of his mouth to twitching. Encouraged, she continued. "And Brendan isn't our enemy either. He's just..." Categorizing Brendan proved harder than she'd thought. Bullshit poured from his mouth almost ceaselessly, and he was so condescending sometimes, but all of his advice had a grain of truth in it, and it did seem like he wanted to help, even if it was annoying. "He's misguided, maybe, but I don't think he feels like we're enemies. Plus, I don't know, he seems like an okay guy." She sighed theatrically, silently lamenting what could have been.

Danny rolled his eyes, reading her mind. "Of _course_ you like him. When's the engagement party?"

If they hadn't been out on the noisy street, Mindy would have sworn she heard Danny's jaw click. The muscles there were working overtime as he tried to keep his thoughts to himself. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"No, it obviously means something. Spill it, Castellano!"

"You know what it means."

"Ugh, of course. Just when I was starting to like you, you remind me what an ass you are."

"Like me?"

Mindy didn't pause in her tirade. "So archaic. A girl want's to relieve a little tension with a nice looking guy, and suddenly you get all offended at the-" Danny spun around to face her, and Mindy ran smack into him, one heel going out from under her as she pitched toward the pavement.

She braced herself, hand's flying out to save her face, already lamenting the impending loss of her calfskin gloves. But the impact never came, or at least not the harsh scraping of cement against her delicate skin. Instead she thudded against the solid wall of Danny's chest as he darted forward, her knees buckling when he caught her beneath the arms.

She hung limply for a second, breaths coming quick and erratic. Danny lifted her up against him, the rise and fall of his chest matching her own. She took a moment to marvel at how easy it was for him, tightly coiled strength bunching in his arms as he waited for her to regain footing. When she did, it was impossible to pull away, not with Danny's eyes darting down to her lips for the second time today, only this time he was so close she could smell his aftershave and feel the heat of his lips only inches away from hers. Even if she could have mustered the wherewithal to withdraw, she wouldn't have been able to with Danny's arms still wrapped around her.

He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing visibly as he held her. "Ease a little tension?"

Hell yes she needed to ease a little tension. She'd had this low grade sexual frustration buzzing in the back offer head for weeks now. Whatever the cause of it, Danny certainly wasn't helping any. How many times had he surreptitiously glanced down at her mouth when talking to her, crossing his arms over his chest like some kind of amateur body builder? Why the hell did he have to spend so much time at the gym anyway? It was downright inconsiderate to her libido.

She ignored his hoarsely whispered question, pushing away from the hard muscles of his chest (which, seriously dude, take a day off once in a while). Painting a frown on her face, she looked at him incredulously. "Who stops in the middle of the sidewalk like that!"

"What?"

Disappointment flooded Mindy as she watched the soft look fade into confusion. She had no idea why she was running from this, but she continued to flee at full speed. "I could have died, Danny!"

"I caught you!"

There it was, that red in the face exasperation she was so used to when he yelled at her. Except now, instead of filling her with the fuel she needed to take him down a peg, all she could do was wonder what it would take to make him look at her with the soft eyes again. She tamped down the urge to bat her eyelashes at him invitingly, and reminded herself how much he annoyed her.

He spun on his heel, marching away from her as fast as possible. She yelled after him, making a spectacle of herself. "Aren't you going to apologize?"

Casting a brief glance over his shoulder, he tossed out a half-assed apology. "I'm sorry I prevented you from getting laid, Lahiri. Have a nice evening."

He disappeared down the subway steps before she could think of a witty retort. Mindy hurried as fast as she could in her stilettos, but it just wasn't enough. Grunting angrily, she stopped and jerked the heels off, grasping them in her right hand by the spikes as she ran toward the subway stairs, bare feet slapping against the pavement.

She slid through the train doors, panting as she scanned for Danny's dark hair. The unmistakably coiffed waves were peeking just over the top of a newspaper, graceful fingers pinching the edges. He was sitting smack between a little old lady with a lap full of knitting and a pink-haired teenage girl scrolling idly on her phone. He'd definitely taken up a strategic position, flanked by the two sentries.

Mindy snatched the newspaper from his fingers and was greeted with a long suffering scowl. "I was reading that, Lahiri."

"You did _not_ prevent me from getting laid. Nothing can stop me from getting laid if I really put my mind to it."

The matronly commuter to Danny's left raised an eyebrow at this, before mumbling "you tell him" in Mindy's general direction. She felt her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She was used to making a spectacle of herself, but this had escalated so quickly that she was a bit tongue tied.

Danny's eyes widened before he burst into an unexpected gale of laughter. It made Mindy want to beat him to death with the weighty end of her platform heels. She'd seen an episode of _Dateline_ where a woman did that, it was indeed possible.

She took a deep breath, ready to threaten him within an inch of his life if he didn't stop laughing, when the pink haired pixie slipped from the hard plastic seat. She looked up at Mindy, taking one earbud out. "You can sit by your boyfriend if you want, my stop's coming up."

"Boyfriend? Absolutely not! I would never date this man. He has dandruff and he doesn't know what _Dancing with the Stars_ is."

The girl was gone before Mindy had even finished speaking, and Danny had latched onto the sleeve of her coat, pulling her down into the seat beside him. Still chuckling softly, he said, "Simmer down, and put your shoes back on. You could get ringworm, the subway's disgusting."

She was deflated, feeling ten kinds of confused by Danny's amused expression. This was not usually how their fights ended. She grumbled to herself as she slipped back into her shoes, leaning forward to wiggle her toes into the patent leather. She could feel him looking at her, and it made her uncomfortably warm in her pea coat.

A hot breath puffed out against her neck, his voice like low grain sandpaper in her ear. "if not having dandruff and liking some show is all it would take for you to date me, I have news for you. Head and shoulders is a miracle shampoo, and Bruno Tonioli is a bit dramatic for my taste, but he gets the job done."

She snapped her head around only to find him smiling down at her, the apples of his cheeks faintly flushed, eyes crinkling pleasantly. He looked so damn pleased with himself. The smug bastard was teasing her.

"Head and shoulders? Oh take me, you irresistible bastion of manhood, I'm yours," she deadpanned, rolling her eyes. She was almost able to pretend her stomach didn't flutter when he laughed softly, eyes dropping back down to his retrieved newspaper... almost.


	21. Picture Them

There had always been something about the sound of the shutter clicking in her ears that Christina found satisfying. Like invisible hash marks piling up on a crisp white sheet of paper, they counted the progress of her day as she captured the life before her. She didn't worry about getting people to sign waivers or asking permission. This was just for her.

She had run, far and fast, after the reviews from her last show. It had been mortifying to be called derivative and spiteful. She'd spent a year in Eastern Europe taking washed out pictures of crumbling buildings and abandoned playgrounds. She thought maybe later she could call it her "colorless period." It had a ring to it, something deep and sad she was sure the art world could appreciate. A tingle of satisfaction zipped up her slender spine each time she hung a photo up to dry. It would definitely be her comeback.

She was taking a break from working her way through the negatives. Back in New York again, colorful life just begged her to take her camera out to the streets. She drifted through tall buildings and the cacophony of traffic, trying to reconnect with the city that rejected her. After spending so long wandering in abandoned European ghettos, the thrum of life here was like electricity on her skin, the shutter clicking at breakneck speed.

So absorbed was she, that it barely even registered when she started walking through an all too familiar part of town. When the elegant facade was framed in the viewfinder, her eyes widened in surprise, lowering the camera without taking a picture. She stood dumbstruck staring at the stoop as strangers went in and out of the building. An almost inaudible voice in her head told her to leave before she saw the face she was waiting for, but it was easy to ignore.

She waited, looking somewhat psychotic as she stood on the other side of the street, half hiding behind the trunk of a tree. Women of all shapes, sizes and colors drifted through the big double doors, making their way down the concrete steps. Christina felt a little flutter of expectation when she saw the muddled form of a male behind the foggy glass, but it was only the tall British partner Danny had barely introduced her to.

She couldn't say why she was waiting for Danny, or what she expected to happen when he stepped out into the sunlight. They were done with each other, their relationship nothing but an emptied film canister, filled to the brim with useless odds and ends. Their last attempt at reconciliation still made her seethe. He hadn't even tried.

Just as she was about to give up and turn away, and explosion of sound and color burst through the building's doors. Mindy Lahiri, in all of her brash glory stomped down the steps, her neon pink duster fluttering out behind her as she maneuvered her way down to the street.

Christina's eyes widened in surprise, lighting on the huge swell of Mindy's distended stomach. This hopeless headcase was pregnant? She said a silent prayer for the world at large, and even whispered an audible one for the poor sap who'd fathered the child, tiptoeing out from behind the tree. Camera raised once again, the shutter began to click at even intervals.

She followed Mindy to the end of the block, wondering at the waddling woman's insistence on wearing four inch heels during what was clearly her third trimester. Mindy's first stop was a frozen yogurt shop, coming out in mere minutes, hands full of tiny sample cups. Slowly but surely, Mindy made her way down the second block, tossing the debris of her frozen yogurt foray into the nearest bin.

It was only when Mindy ducked into Danny's favorite sports memorabilia store that Christina paused, a cold thrill of premonition coursing through her. It was Danny's birthday, and she had rifled through so many receipts from this place, trying to do their taxes before the split. Mindy was buying him a gift? Mindy and Danny had always had a strange relationship.

She'd questioned him about it many times, scanning his features for tell tale twitches when he said his colleague's name. She'd been so sure something had been going on between them. Their last fight had ended in a Mindy-related screaming match, him ducking out the door to attend his friend's last minute wedding while she angrily tossed lavender scented letters all over their living room.

Maybe the tall blonde giant was the father of this neon clad bump. Christina shuddered. The thought of the a tiny woman pushing out a potentially gargantuan child made her cringe. It was strange that Mindy would be buying Danny such a thoughtful birthday present when she had a husband and kid on the way. Surely a Starbucks gift card would have been sufficient for a coworker.

Christina continued to snap pictures, like a private investigator tailing a known criminal through the gritty streets of New York. She zoomed in on the package in Mindy's manicured hands, trying to figure out exactly what it was. It was wrapped in dark blue paper, silver ribbon threaded across the box's smooth surface. It was only then that she noticed there was no wedding ring on the tiny brown hands holding the box.

They were almost back to the practice, a sense of dread building in Christina, making her stomach swirl with barely concealed ire. She watched Mindy struggle back up the steps and into the building, secretly hoping the ditzy brunette would take a tumble in her ridiculous heels.

The bench was cold as she plopped down onto it, setting her camera down beside her. There was no way in hell she was leaving until her suspicions were confirmed. The cold wind whipped her short hair into her eyes, but she didn't bother to bat it away. She was engrossed in plans for a new art show, one about husband stealing hussies who were possibly colorblind.

The happy couple finally made their way down to the street, Danny hovering like a helicopter as he watched Mindy slowly take the steps. He cupped her elbow gingerly with one hand when she teetered. Christina jumped up and dashed across traffic, narrowed avoiding an angry cabbie, the sound of a blaring horn the least of her concerns.

She startled them. Finding some pleasure in the shocked expressions on their faces, the camera began to snap again. "Liars!"

Deranged wasn't a word Christina would have used to describe herself. Even in this situation, she felt she was merely being appropriately passionate. Hopefully, that would come through in the blurry and unfocused shots.

Danny was the first to shake off the initial surprise. Stepping forward he placed himself in front of Mindy, an angry frown twisting his features. "Excuse me!"

"I ASKED you, Danny. And you said no."

"Asked me what?"

He shook his head in confusion, Mindy curiously peeking over his shoulder. Christina took another picture, snarling her nose at Mindy's raised eyebrows. "The night of her 'wedding' you told me you didn't have feelings for her, that the STACK of intimate letters I found HIDDEN in your desk didn't mean anything."

Danny's shoulders dropped unexpectedly, contrition painted on his face. Christina lowered her camera. An apologetically flushed face wouldn't jive with the tone of her newly planned collection.

"I was lying, you're right. I was lying to myself." He swallowed, awkwardly threading his fingers through his hair, his hand drifted to the back of his neck. "I uh… I didn't know.. God, Christina, why the fuck do you care?"

There it was, that thinly veiled disgust she was so used to seeing when he looked at her. The camera came up again, but before she could snap another shot a flurry of pink and yellow sent the device flying. Mindy moved swiftly between the lithe blonde and Danny, protruding stomach bumping into Christina's now empty hands. "Back off, nutcase. He didn't cheat on you. He spared you that indignity, unlike what you did to him."

That was all it took. Christina's world crumbled around her, the armor of her profession batted away like cobwebs. She was suddenly crying, large fat tears rolling down her angular cheekbones. The rage she'd seen on Mindy's face disappeared instantly, replaced by wide eyed shock. Mindy backed away slowly. "Shit… what the hell is wrong with you?"

The sobs came harder and faster in response to the sympathy in Mindy's voice. She was hiccupping like a child trying to answer the question. "I-I-I.." No, it wasn't any use, she couldn't make words form in the garbled mess of consonants spilling from her mouth.

That yellow and pink disaster of an outfit moved closer to Christina, one warm hand lighting on her shoulder. "Hey, come on… it's not that bad. Danny's still sweaty and he blows a gasket every time I mention the red sox."

"Mindy!"

Mindy shot him a look, ending his argument before it even started. Christina looked up at her, watery eyes ignoring the apoplectic look on Danny's face. This petite little firecracker of a woman was offering her sympathy? Of all the people in the world, she was certain this one would have hated her. She tried again. ."You're so… you look… happy." She gestured to Mindy's stomach with one finely boned hand, the tears wobbling in her voice again. "I can't have children."

"What!" Danny was pulling Mindy away. "Listen, Christina, you don't even want kids, you said it like a thousand times when we were married." He turned to Mindy. "She's playing you. Let's go."

"No, Danny...I… I lied. I couldn't have kids, then or now. I just didn't want you to know." She laughed ruefully,dashing away the fresh tears. "I thought you would leave me. At least when you thought I didn't want kids, you had this hope that you could change my mind one day."

Turning away, she withdrew from Mindy's sympathetic touch, bending down to pick up her camera. "I'm sorry. I'll leave."

As Christina walked away, she counted, the sound of untaken pictures clicking in her brain. This was it for her. There was no future, no family to look to in old age. How many good years did she have left? How many boyfriends would walk away when they found out about her problem? Rocco, her italian lover, certainly hadn't hesitated in finding a new fecund girlfriend when she'd told him.

She was just about to turn at the end of the block, when she heard Danny calling after her, or rather calling after Mindy.

"Mindy, stop running, you're going to break your neck!"

The bright little whirlwind was advancing on her, fast. "Christina, wait." She was panting as she approached her, holding out one hand. In it was a slim business card. "I have a fertility clinic, please come by. The first consultation is free."

Danny glared at her from about ten feet away. There was no sympathy on his face, just barely simmering rage. It only abated when his gaze shifted to Mindy, softening around his eyes as he stared at the woman he loved.

Christina nodded, pocketing the little rectangle of cardstock, watching as Mindy returned to Danny. They walked away from her without looking back, his left hand sliding down the back of Mindy's neon pink duster as he guided her along. She didn't' feel the hatred that had coursed through her only moments before, instead it was replaced by a faint hope. She hefted her camera in her hands, and snapped a picture of the departing lovers' backs. It felt good to watch them walk away.


	22. Dust Yourself Off

Morphine is a hell of a drug, a kind of miracle liquid coursing through her veins. It doesn't just erase her pain. It sends any whisper of discomfort flying off into the night, turning the world around her into a soft cloudy dreamscape. She can't even hang on to the despair floating on the periphery of her consciousness. Everything just looks soft around the edges, like an out of focus picture, and all she can do is stare dazedly at the table full of flowers beside her bed, relaxed smile twisting her lips upward.

Even the constant beeping of her heart monitor is a melodic noise as soft and gentle as rain falling. Or maybe that's the actual falling rain, pattering softly on the cold window panes. It's hard to tell, the cacophony of sound damped by the literal gauze wrapped around her head and the fog of painkillers.

She sighs, eyes drifting shut as she hums along to the beeping. The sound that issues from her lips is groggy and more than a little sloppy sounding. She tries to brush a strand of hair across her face away, but her arm is like lead at her side, weighted down. It drops back to the soft mattress after only an inch of progress.

She is so tired, sleep seducing her from every corner of her mind. She wants to slumber and dream of the things she'd so recently held close. Danny's soft hair brushing against her bare tummy as he recited Supreme Court justices for their child... the barely noticeable fluttering in her abdomen when the little guy got excited listening to his father. She begins to drift, replaying all the I-love-you's she'll probably never get to hear again.

Something brushes across her forehead, a touch that is both gentle and tentative. His name like a prayer on her lips, or at least what a prayer would sound like if she ever bothered with that kind of thing. She's pleading with every possible entity in the universe, begging to be back in her own reality when she opens her eyes. "I love you so much."

Maybe the slurred declaration will jerk her out of this nightmare and plunk her back down in her soft bed, back in their shared apartment. Maybe when she opens her eyes she'll see the gentle swell of her stomach under Danny's goose down comforter.

But it's still the off white hospital blanket draped over her battered body and the blue glare of a TV mounted to the wall that fill her vision when her eyelids flutter open. Her chin trembles, a soft whine escaping her.

Danny's jerks his hand back as though he's a child that's been caught stealing cookies, a sheepish look replacing the deep lines of concern he'd worn only moments before. Mindy feels her face crumple, scalding tears running down her cheeks. Suddenly, everything comes rushing in. It hurts to cry, and she wonders if the painkillers are wearing off, or if this feeling is just too deep for them to touch. "What have I done? It's all gone."

The pain is in her chest, bubbling up as the tears roll faster. She feels the moisture slipping down onto the front of her hospital gown, soaking the material at her collar. The loud screech of metal on tile echoes in the room as Danny scoots the heavy visitor's chair closer to the bed. His hand is clammy against hers, thumb brushing softly against the back of her knuckles as he spoke. "Shh, it's fine. Nothing's gone. You're right here."

She wonders if this is the voice he uses with small children, the one he might have used with their own child. She can see him, clear as day, bending down and comforting Richie after falling off his bike. She's the only child here now, battered and broken, fat tears sliding down her face. Danny's voice gentle, soothing even as the awkwardness envelops him. It doesn't fit with this reality. In this place he's supposed to be an asshole, some co-worker who doesn't give two shits about whether she lives or dies. He thinks she's a bad person, they haven't spoken in two years. Why does he bother with this bedside sympathy?

She continues to cry, trying to shake her head in vain. Sluggishly she manages a half denial. "No, this isn't real. This isn't my life. This isn't _your _life."

She expects argument, some reasonable explanation of her insanity based on the trauma she just experienced. He's always been good at that, finding reasons for everything. But Danny only squeezes her hand, forehead dropping to her shoulder in resignation. "I know."

She hates it. The husky confession, his voice wobbling on every syllable. It breaks Mindy's heart to hear him like this. He's so much worse off in this universe, broken into even more jagged pieces than when she'd found him years ago. Her breathing evens out, the little hiccups slowly fading away as she looks down at him. "You do?"

At first she thinks he's not going answer her, his lips pursed together tightly. She can see the muscle working in his temple as he clenches his teeth. It's a tell. He always does that when he thinks he might expose himself. She's almost given up on hearing anything from him, when he swallows hard and just starts rambling.

"Sure, I know… This is all my fault, Mindy." He's begging her to forgive him without actually saying the words. She's heard it before, desperation cracking his voice as he pleads. "If I had done something… years ago. We wouldn't be here. You wouldn't be in so much pain."

He looks up at her, and she's surprised to see tears staining his own visage, eyes still gleaming. His adam's apple bobs again, trying to dislodge the new lump there. She hates this. It isn't fair, and he doesn't even know _how_ unfair.

"No, Danny-"

Desperate to get out his confession, he cuts her off seeking absolution from her. "I should have kissed you before you went to Haiti… I just stared at you like I thought maybe you could read my mind, like you would save me the trouble of putting myself out there."

It's unexpected, this hoarse admission. Suddenly the letters he sent her make perfect sense, the soft conversation out on her firescape before she almost married Casey has new painful connotations. She'd always wondered when it started for him, but he was so good at hiding things it was impossible to tell. "It's not-"

"I always did that. Just watched as you lived your life, hoping. I was a coward."

"You weren't a coward on the plane. What happened, Danny? Why didn't you kiss me?"

"How do you know that? I still don't understand."

"I told you. There's some universe out there where I never met Matt, where you took me in your arms and kissed me until I couldn't think of anything but the feel of your lips. That's where we belong."

"Mindy." He's chiding, softly because he doesn't want to work her up, but he can't let this crazy notion slide.

"Do I have to _prove _it?"

He's speechless, hearing the fire back in her voice for the first time. His mouth opens and closes, but he has no answer. He'd love for it to be true, so much so that he achingly waits for her to continue.

"Fine, Diamond Dan, I _will _prove it." She takes a deep breath, fighting the floating feeling in her limbs. "You stripped your way through med school, and you've still got some pretty good moves. Your mom is absolutely nuts, but you love her so much, and you know what, so do I, even though she pretends to hate me. And she sent you to school with a purse instead of a book bag, but you don't mind that because it was tough and it made you who you are. You love me, god damn it, and when you found out you were going to be a dad, you just lit up like a million fireworks."

He's speechless, stunned by her laundry list of facts. He can't even process the fact that she knows about the stripping before he's thinking about the last thing that she said. "A dad? What are you talking about."

It's difficult, but she manages to slip one hand up to her abdomen, willing her brain to remember what it's like to be pregnant. "We were going to have a little boy, and you wanted to name him Anthony Frances, but I thought that was too catholic, and you didn't like Jaden Drake… We fought about it, a little."

He's trembling now, new information washing over him. He feels like he's been robbed of something, a bottomless emptiness settling in his chest. "Then why are you here?"

She sniffed, looking away from him. "It's just like that stupid black and white movie you made me watch last Christmas, the one where the villain is a banker, and the tall skinny guy that he wishes he'd never been born."

* * *

><p>Danny doesn't bother to remind her that he's never made her watch anything, let alone <em>Its a Wonderful Life<em>. He feels a tugging in his chest when she mentions it, and thinks maybe he catches a faint whiff of gingerbread on the air. He begins to cave, crumbling around the edges first, wanting to believe everything she says.

"You wished you'd never been born?"

She shakes her head. "I wished you'd never kissed me. I just wanted a life with someone easier. You made things so hard."

This comes as a surprise, and the grip he's had on her hand all this time loosens. After all she's said tonight about love and belonging together, even in her strange alternate reality he makes her miserable. It's both his worst fear and what he's always thought would happen.

He starts to pull away, but she uses what little strength she has to curl her fingers back around his. "I was wrong, okay. It's okay that things are hard sometimes. You make me a better person, and you've given me so much more than you even know you're capable of."

"I have?"

She nods. "And I make you a better person too, okay? You've _always _stepped outside of yourself for me, making gingerbread houses and dancing with your heart on your sleeve, inviting me into your home when I have no place to go."

The memories flood him, these are things he's tried so hard to push to the back of his mind, to pretend never happened. The person he is now is only a shadow of what he once was. His throat closes, choking on the realization that's flooding him.

Her voice is wobbly now, wet with tears as she continues. "What kind of guy runs through the streets of New York to tell a girl he loves her on top of the Empire State Building?"

He clears his throat, taken out of the memories by her strange question. He smiles sadly, remembering a heated debate from years ago. "Guys don't do that kind of thing."

"You do."

"I do?"

"Yeah." She laughs sadly at the surprised expression in his face. If only she could reach forward and rest her palm gently on his cheek, feel the familiar stubble on the pads of her fingers. She settles for squeezing his fingers that have gone lax. "Don't get me wrong, you still act like a jerk all the time, but you're my jerk."

Danny blinks, the warmth in her voice is the final straw, pooled tears roll silently down his cheeks before he dashes them away with his free hand. "Then why... why are you so miserable in this other life?"

"You wouldn't marry me... and I thought it meant..." She trails off, almost ashamed of what she's about to say. "I thought you weren't committed, that we might get into some kind of end-all fight, and you'd leave... Like maybe you were waiting for it."

He's lost in what she's saying, adrift in a waking dream. He can almost see the things she describes, their life together. He had flashes of it before, but it was always easy to blot them out with whiskey and a warm body. Now it's like he's looking through a telescope, blurry images just starting to come into focus. He wishes he could step across the divide and shake some sense into his other self.

"Mindy, you're married, just not to me. A-and you're happy, okay."

The corners of her lips pull down in an angry frown. "And where exactly is he, Danny? Where is this man that's made vows to me? In sickness and in health? _Where is he?_"

He can still see the worry lined face of Matt, standing at Mindy's bedside as Danny had summarized her chart. As much as he wants to give the man credit, Danny still feels a little wave of disgust roll through him. Matt had quietly slipped through the hospital doors once he knew she was going to be okay, looking only a little guilty as he said, "Tell her it's a sweeps episode, she'll understand."

And Danny stayed, of course. An invisible thread tethering him to the woman lying in front of him. "You're not sick, you'll be fine. He know that. He's just busy, something about brooms."

He's trying to make her smile. This much at least he remembers. She loves to correct him, tell him how pathetically uninformed he is about such important things. But it doesn't spark a smile on her lips. Instead she squeezes her eyes shut and turns her head away from him. "You don't believe me."

He does, though, down in his bones he knows everything she says is true. He can see it all. There's even a faint whisper of the joy he must feel in this other life she's talking about. It makes him light headed, and he's grateful that she's turned away, that she can't see the hysteria in his features. He takes slow even breaths to gain back some control.

"Mindy, this has been a horrible night for you, you're heavily medicated and traumatized."

There it is, the rationality she initially expected. He sounds so calm. It's devastating. There's no argument she can make without dissolving into a puddle of tears. Not that it matters, the salty liquid is already pouring down her cheeks silently.

They're both quiet for a while, Mindy pretending the drugs have finally overtaken her. All her energy is focused on the feel of him still holding her hand. She counts the seconds, like an insomniac counting sheep, waiting for the moment when he'll let her go.

It never comes, an opiate laden fog finally creeping around her. She falls asleep for real, moisture chilling on her face.

* * *

><p>When she wakes up hours later, he's gone, and the sun is streaming through the poorly drawn curtains, a single blue orchid sitting apart from all of the other garish get well arrangements in the middle of her bedside table. It's weeks before she has the courage to read the card, Danny conspicuously absent from her visitors list. It's a nurse that knocks down the wall Mindy has begun to build.<p>

The bouncy woman in lilac scrubs is leaning forward to drop ice cubes down into the pot of the orchid, making sure the thing at least gets some water. It's the only living flower anyone brought Mindy. She plucks the card from its holder, no mind for privacy. "I believe you."

Mindy's head pops up. "What?"

The nurse waves the little card at her. "It says, _'I believe you. -D_' What does that mean?"

The room is quiet for a minute, Mindy's erratic breathing the only sound in the air. She blinks, looking stunned. "It means there's hope."


End file.
